


Thursday's Child

by inquisitor_tohru



Series: The Travellers in the Dark [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Chronic Illness, Clones, Daddy Issues, Established Relationship, F/M, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Sibling Bonding, flow-walking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6459949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the destruction of Starkiller Base, General Hux and Kylo Ren have begun to settle back into a (reasonably) orderly routine aboard the Finalizer as they prepare to strike back at the Resistance. That is, until Hux's father recommends a potential candidate to replace the Finalizer's (deceased) weapons specialist. Turns out he looks just like Hux - and he’s not the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost and gone forever

 

> _“It’s an empty promise, Ben. Full of hopes and wishes, but in the end, it’s just ashes and disillusionment. Yes, you can see those who have died, but you can’t change what happens to them.” -_ Christie Golden, _Fate of the Jedi: Omen_
> 
>  

* * *

 

The catwalk stretched out before him, an invitation to watch the scene unfolding before him. As if he needed it. An older man walked past him, seemingly unaware of his presence. His hair was feathery and brushed with more silver than he recalled, but there was no way he could have identified him as anyone other than Han Solo.

“Ben!” The figure ahead turned around. His garments looked like ragged shadows and he wore a mask that gave his voice a strange buzz when he spoke.

“Han Solo. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”

“Take off that mask. You don’t need it.”

“What do you think you’ll see if I do?” Han Solo moved towards the other figure.

“The face of my son.” The man took off his mask, and the two continued speaking. It was too quiet for him to hear them clearly, but he knew exactly what was being said. When he saw the younger man move as though he were about to hand something to Han Solo, the atmosphere was heavier, murkier. _Not long now._ He knew what was going to happen, of _course_ he did, and yet he was filled with a crippling doubt. In any case, even if he’d _wanted_ to intervene, he could not have hoped to change anything here.

Milliseconds became nanoseconds, and nanoseconds slowly, _very slowly_ , became seconds, and red light burst through Han Solo’s back. Kylo Ren stared across the bridge, almost able to look himself in the eye.

_“Thank you.”_

* * *

 

When he returned to the present, his eyes were red and sore. Flow-walking required tremendous concentration and left him drained, both physically and mentally. It had not yet become clear why Leader Snoke had seen fit to incorporate this technique into his training, but he trusted that there had been a good reason, and that in time it would be revealed.

Ren nodded towards his grandfather’s helmet before putting on his own and leaving his quarters. The _Finalizer_ hummed softly, much quieter than it had once been. He’d felt the disturbance in the Force as men, women, even children, had lost their lives on Starkiller Base. He couldn’t claim to have known or been close to each and every person serving the First Order on that wintry, hollowed-out planet, yet he’d felt as if something had been ripped away from him as brought back to the _Finalizer._

He’d flow-walked through the forest, watching the traitor who called himself Finn, the look on the scavenger’s face as she called him a monster, and Hux. Ren already knew Hux had been the one to come for him, but he’d barely been conscious during the incident itself. He remembered a warm flash of red against the blizzard’s vicious swirls of white, but he hadn’t been able to see the expression of pure _relief_ in Hux’s eyes or feel the supple leather covering the hand on his cheek, the brush of his lips against his forehead. Thinking about that made him almost want to smile, but he was still tired and everything ached. Simply walking through the _Finalizer’s_ sprawling corridors was exhausting, but he had nearly reached the officer’s lounge – an area he hadn’t bothered visiting until relatively recently, when he’d been introduced to the extensive range of drinks available to the officers or, indeed, the Knights of Ren.

He arrived to find Zach already at the bar holding a brightly coloured cocktail with an overwhelmingly sweet smell and a thin slice of fruit bobbing on the surface. He had fully recovered from the rather unfortunate _incident_ , and his motor functions had improved greatly from when he’d first woken from his coma. For some reason though, Zach had gained a peculiarly sweet tooth that showed no sign of disappearing.

“Lord Ren.” Ren cringed behind his mask. It would have been inappropriate for Zach to address him in any other fashion, except perhaps ‘sir’, but he disliked the formality all the same.

“At ease, officer.” Zach nodded, relaxing his posture a little as he leaned against the bar. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better. And…I apologise once again for my handling of the… _situation._ ” 

“Well…in hindsight I realise that, although I was only trying to lighten the mood, ‘you and the General should kiss and make up’ may not have been the most appropriate wording.” Zack paused to stir his ridiculous-looking drink. “Although I’ve heard that it _was_ good advice after all.” Ren let out a noise, mangled by the voice-modulator but still recognisable as an expression of amusement. 

“Don’t push your luck.” Zach grinned, his eyes darting towards the door as it opened with a _swoosh._

“Never again. I’ll leave you to it.” Of course, Ren had sensed Hux’s arrival before he entered the lounge. To have _not_ noticed would have been more of an effort. The general’s presence was so _evident_ that he suspected even those who were not attuned to the Force as he was would feel similarly.

Hux acknowledged him with a subtle gesture before walking towards the other end of the bar, and Ren tilted his helmet towards him. Considering that he now knew that Hux had kissed him on the forehead in front of several stormtroopers, and that their relationship _appeared_ to be common knowledge amongst at least some of the officers, he couldn’t help but find Hux’s insistence on appearances and _discretion_ rather humorous.

“General, I hear you’re hiring a new weapons specialist,” Ren approached him under the guise of getting a drink, noting that Hux had ordered a cup of caf – obviously he was planning on working late, as usual. “Let us hope this one is _exceptionally trained._ ” 

“Indeed. I’m sure his credentials will be to your liking, but…perhaps you would care to review them if your schedule is free this evening. A second opinion may be valuable.”

“Of course. I’ll check my itinerary.”


	2. Pit of ghosts

_“Or might the soul clone itself,_  
_create a perfect imitation_  
_of something yet to be_  
_defined?”_

\- Ellen Hopkins, _Identical_

  

* * *

 

 “I…didn’t realize you _actually_ wanted me to look at this.” Ren wrinkled his nose at the datapad Hux had handed him, as though it were emitting some strange odour.

“Even though that’s _exactly_ what I said I’d like you to do.”

“I thought you were just saying that because we were…in public. I didn’t think you needed my input on this matter – it’s hardly my area of expertise.” Hux’s eyes narrowed. Really, Ren was ridiculous at times.

“Ren _,_ I realize you have no great passion for military technology, but if I didn’t value your opinion, I wouldn’t _ask_.” Ren sighed, furrowing his brow as he began to scroll through the data. Hux shifted uncomfortably in his chair – as it was unusual for them to be together in Ren’s quarters, he was not yet used to these furnishings. _There’s_ one _thing I don’t think I’ll ever grow accustomed to,_ he thought grimly, glancing at Darth Vader’s ruined helmet.

“I don’t see any problems,” Ren said, skimming through the information once more time. “If anything, he seems _too_ perfect. Do you think that’s suspicious?”

“I had given it some thought.” Hux rose to walk over to where Ren was sitting, looking over his shoulder to check the data for the eleventh time that day. “But the candidate was recommended by my father. While we may have some…differences in our methods, I don’t believe he harbors any desires to undermine the Order’s plans.”

When it came down to it, the First Order’s ideology was very firmly rooted in the dreams and ambitions of Brendol Hux and his contemporaries. Hux was barely able to remember the Imperial Academy on Arkanis, but the older officers claimed it served as the model for the vast ships that accomodated the First Order’s academies, and he could believe it. Hux personally found secret societies rather repugnant, but his father had seen fit to make the suggestion to revive the _Commandant’s Cadets._  

“No, I don’t suppose he does. I…am fairly unfamiliar with this sort of thing, but…” Ren stopped, frowning again. “He didn’t train at one of our institutions. Is that usual?” Hux couldn’t help but smile at that. 

“Neither did you.” He sensed a presence on the edges of his mind, warm and comforting – Ren didn’t seem to realize he’d been doing this more and more frequently of late. _Ben._ Hux could tell Ren was conscious of the thought, because of the way his head suddenly whipped around. 

“You’re not supposed to say that name,” he said, ever so softly, looking straight into Hux’s eyes. Of course. Leader Snoke had forbidden it.

“I didn’t _say_ anything.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Would _you_ prefer it if I didn’t?” Ren thought about it.

“Yes. For your own safety.” Hux nodded. He didn’t think Leader Snoke was peeking at his thoughts, but it was a reasonable request. The warm feeling wrapped around him like a blanket as Ren added, as something much more than an afterthought, _for now._ He found himself looking at the helmet again, settled in its bed of ashes.

“You asked whether it was usual,” Hux said, turning back to the matter at hand. “Your own case was unique, of course, but there have been others. It’s not unheard of. Of course, with their more…colourful backgrounds, they are monitored much more _closely_ for any signs of nonconformity.”

“More closely than FN-2187?” Hux groaned, even though it _was_ nice to see Ren smile. 

_“Yes.”_ Ren craned his neck, moving close enough that Hux could feel his breath and the brush of his lips against his earlobe.

“Was this really the _only_ reason you wanted to be in my quarters, _General_?” Hux grinned and retaliated by grabbing a fistful of dark hair.

“What do you think?”

 

* * *

 

Caleb had never been particularly fond of traveling through hyperspace. It resulted in headaches, nausea, and most often an unpleasant experience for anybody who presumed to speak with him upon arriving at his destination. This time the unfortunate soul was a quietly spoken lieutenant with sleek, dark hair and nice eyes, and so he got off easier than others might have done. Even if he _was_ looking at him a little strangely. 

“You’re…the new weapons specialist, sir?” Caleb stifled a cough and cleared his throat.

“That is correct. I was led to believe you’d be expecting me, or was that _not_ the case?” More people around them were looking at him, staring even. _Honestly._ It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced something like this, but was this _really_ the most exciting thing to happen on one of the First Order’s battlecruisers? He’d hoped working here would at least be _interesting._ Perhaps it still would be, he’d wait and see – not that he had much of a choice now.

“It’s not that we weren’t expecting you, exactly, sir…” The lieutenant was fidgeting with the hat he’d removed, looking down at his hands, then at the floor, anywhere but Caleb’s face. 

“Do my looks displease you _that_ much, Lieutenant?” he asked, lips curling into an uneven smile. The lieutenant steeled himself, looking up into Caleb’s startlingly green eyes.

“Of course not. I’m sorry if I appeared rude.” He hesitated, putting his hat back on. Caleb wasn’t entirely sure why he’d taken it off in the first place. “This way. General Hux is on the bridge.” The _Finalizer_ was far larger than Caleb had anticipated. He’d known the starship’s measurements, but he’d never been on anything bigger than a shuttle. He was a great deal more comfortable on a speeder. The shine of the floor tiles brought to mind a lake at nighttime and that, along with the dreary greys, reminded him of home.

They passed a few stormtroopers as they made their way down one corridor, but they kept their heads down and didn’t look at him, utterly focused on whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. The ship was like a maze. It seemed like _hours_ had passed before the lieutenant finally took out one of the cylinders he was carrying and opened a door. Caleb assumed that the command bridge was probably an area _he_ wouldn’t normally have access to – at least, not officially.

He spotted General Hux on the other side of the catwalk right away, speaking to another man, also dressed in black. It would have been difficult to miss him. Caleb assumed the other man was another member of high command. Although he had little knowledge of the key personnel in the First Order, he was familiar with the chain of command, and their postures told him a great deal.

“Sir,” the lieutenant began, straightening up. “I’ve escorted your- the weapons technician.” When the general turned to acknowledge them, his face turned pale, accentuating his startlingly _blue_ eyes. 

“Well, then. It really _is_ like looking into a mirror.” _Almost._ His lips twisted into another lopsided smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, General.”


	3. This old man

_My father knows the proper way_  
_The nation should be run;_  
_He tells us children every day_  
_Just what should now be done._

 **-** Edgar A. Guest, _Father_

 

* * *

 

Reflections were supposed to be confined to mirrors and dark glass. Water, in the correct conditions. Perhaps even a well-polished tile. That was the natural order of things. Hux felt like throwing up, and the jerky movements of the elevator weren’t helping one bit.

“Don’t worry,” said the doppelgänger, that stupid smirk still plastered across his face. “I’m not a harbinger of bad luck. Or a version of you from another dimension. Or from the future. I’m just-”

“I know _what_ you are,” Hux hissed, keeping his eyes focused on the buttons as they lit up. Mitaka stood awkwardly between them, sneaking a glance at the doppelgänger every so often.

“I _doubt_ that,” he said, the smile fading. “I realize this is strange. It was for me, too, the first time… _oh._ You don’t _know,_ do you?” He was perceptive – of _course_ he was. And Hux hated it. He hated that he was stuck in an elevator with this… _person,_ because his father didn’t feel like descending to the lower levels of the ship when this was all his fault. He wished he wasn’t going to see him at all.

But he also wished the damn elevator would hurry up.

“…Evidently not. I’m sure my _illustrious_ father will enlighten me.”

“I don’t mind explaining.” Clearly, the doppelgänger didn’t know when to _shut up_. Hux decided that silence might be a more effective strategy. Mitaka looked at both of them apologetically, as if he were somehow responsible, even though the very idea was absurd. He was grateful when they finally reached their destination and he made sure that he was the first to exit the cramped space. The elevator never normally seemed so slow.

“Wait here,” he told the doppelgänger, without making eye contact. He turned to Mitaka. “Lieutenant, if you would be so good as to keep our new specialist company.” 

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

 

Brendol Hux set his datapad down on the desk in front of him when his son entered. The room was adequate, he supposed – the office of one of the other members of high command, on temporary leave following the disaster that was Starkiller Base. After weighing up his options, he cut straight to the chase.

“So, you’ve met your brother. Sit down.”

 _“Brother?_ I’m not sure that’s what I’d call him. He’s a clone, is he not… _sir_?” The title sounded tacked on, almost an afterthought. He let is slide, and considered his reply. Since Aoife’s death, his son had become rather more emotional than usual. More unpredictable. 

“Sit down,” Brendol said once more. “He’s both. You are no different from him, in that respect at least.” He was _still_ on his feet, he noted, digging his nails into his palms. He wondered if that habit was one he shared with the others – it would certainly be interesting to see if it was the case. Just as he was about to repeat himself again, Hux sat down, silent for a time.

“You were _very_ clear in your disdain for the Empire’s implementation of clone troopers.” It would be foolish to assume his son had _fully_ accepted the reality, but he always had tended towards adjusting his beliefs more quickly than others when confronted with cold, hard _facts._ That was how he’d been brought up. Brendol allowed himself to smile. 

“The last time I checked, you were not a trooper.” Hux did not roll his eyes, but his father could almost _feel_ the effort that was costing him, and that amused him. “Your continuation of the stormtroopers’ training programme is admirable – you clearly understand the roles of social, cultural and environmental factors and their impact on the troopers’ development. A person is shaped by experiences. Nothing about any one of us is original – we are the combined effort of everything and everyone we have ever known.” He paused to clear his throat.

“Officers like Tarkin did not share this opinion, as you know. For my vision to come to life, to create a force _worthy_ of the Empire, I needed supporting _evidence_. Who better to reveal the impact of external influences than genetically identical individuals?” He watched as Hux processed this. The logic was undeniable, and he knew it. Whether he liked it or not was irrelevant.

“Aoife gave birth to you _and_ Caleb. The others had different birth mothers, grew up on different planets. When we left Arkanis for the Unknown Regions to establish the First Order, Caleb was placed on Jakku.” He grinned – this was where the story got interesting. “According to predictions in the data, he _ought_ to have remained there…but when he was fourteen he managed to sneak aboard a freighter headed for Arkanis. It appeared he’d been planning this for some time, but there’s nothing any of the monitors were able to find that suggests  _why_. In any case, I’m sure the two of you are _dying_ to get to know one another – perhaps we should invite him in and ask him ourselves.” How did he know this? How many of them _were_ there? He could tell Hux had a _lot_ of other questions he wanted to ask, but now was not the time. He needed a cup of caf first, or maybe something stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a little longer than usual to upload this chapter! I had a deadline and, as such, less time to work on this ;)


	4. Leave them alone, and they'll come home

“Children are knives, my mother once said. They don’t mean to, but they cut. And yet we cling to them, don’t we, we clasp them until the blood flows.” – Joanne Harris, _The Girl with No Shadow_

 

* * *

 

Kylo Ren couldn’t quite identify what it was that had rattled him mid-flow-walk, but whatever it was had disturbed him so thoroughly that it had drawn him away from General Organa and back to the _Finalizer._ The one thing he did know was that it had something to do with Hux, and that did nothing to ease his distress. His grandfather’s mask continued to stare at him when he rose from his seat, a silent accusation.

His limbs felt heavier than usual as he strolled, but he knew it was only an illusion. Flow-walking could have that effect, particularly when one was _dragged_ back to the present moment. _You may have lingered too long,_ Ren told himself. Perhaps that _was_ so – but it was necessary that he trained. 

He took the elevator to the _Finalizer’s_ third level, sensing Hux’s presence there, right at the the centre of the strange feeling that persisted in tugging at the corners of his mind. Brendol was temporarily situated in one of the offices on this level, he recalled. Knowing this, it was not difficult to pinpoint the source of the growing anxiety, even without yet realising its cause. Ren groaned as he approached the corridor in which the invisible fog of unease was thickest. Of all the people he could have run into, there in front of him was Lieutenant Mitaka. _The harbinger of bad news himself._ And beside him was…was… _who_? Behind his mask, Ren squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments, then opened them again.

“Yes, yes, I know I’m _exceedingly_ good looking.” Ren blinked again.

“Sir,” Mitaka began, ceasing his fiddling with his right cufflink as he stood up straight. “This is the new-” Ren interrupted him with a wave of his hand, holding him in his current position.

“That’s a little overdramatic. If you wanted my attention, a simple greeting would have sufficed, _Kylo Ren._ ” The man who was not Hux looked at Mitaka’s frozen expression with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Ren kept his tone even.

“You know who I am. Now, if you would be so kind, do tell me who _you_ are.”

“I do now,” he smiled. “The lieutenant had begun introducing us, before you so _rudely_ interrupted him. I’m sure he’ll be gracious enough to continue if you let him go.” Mitaka gasped as Ren reluctantly released his grip. Not only did this man wear Hux’s face, save for the two bright green eyes, but he was as _infuriating_ as he’d once found the General.

“…This is the n-new weapons specialist,” Mitaka continued after catching his breath and regaining his composure – or at least some of it. “Caleb Hux. General Hux’s…brother.” He didn’t bother to explain who Ren was, since that had already been established.

_“Brother?”_ Hux had never mentioned a brother, let alone a _twin,_ though it was rare enough for either of them to speak about their families – was it possible that his impression of Hux as an only child _had_ been incorrect?

“Indeed. I know it must be hard to believe. There’s barely _any_ family resemblance.” Ren’s hand twitched. It would have been most satisfying to throw Caleb against the wall, even if he _did_ look like Hux. 

“Your glibness does you no credit.” Mitaka at least had the good sense to look worried when Caleb laughed.

“I’m not here to earn _your_ approval. I’m here because I need the job,” he grinned. “But that’s fair, I’ve been told before I don’t always give the _best_ first impressions. I’m sure _you_ can empathise.” Ren wondered if, had the office doors not opened just then, he really _would_ have slammed the man into the wall. 

“Lord Ren, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Ren looked into the eyes of Brendol Hux for the first time. Eyes that seemed to burn holes through his mask. “It truly is an honour. If you’ll excuse me, however, I have business with my son.” He smiled and gestured towards Caleb, whose expression had noticeably darkened. Ren couldn’t help but feel a little smug about that.

“No doubt. Do not let me keep you from your little…reunion.” It wasn’t blind hatred that emanated towards Ren, but it wasn’t pleasant either – if the feeling had been physical it might have been a bite, not venomous, but painful nonetheless. Then the aura softened a little as Caleb looked back over his shoulder.

“Thank you, and…sorry for the trouble, Lieutenant.” Neither he nor Mitaka had chance to say anything else before the doors _whooshed_ shut.

 

* * *

 

Hux’s palms itched where the skin had broken. _Shouldn’t have removed the gloves,_ he thought, as he put them back on – partly to prevent further injury, but mostly to hide the damage that had already been done. The doppelgäng- _Caleb_ accompanied his father when he returned, as promised. He smiled, a little more awkwardly this time, as he slouched in the seat next to Hux. Now that he was able to look at him more closely, it was impossible not to notice just how _thin_ he was. He was aware that his own physique was far from _bulky_ , but well-tailored clothes that were too large gave the impression of someone who had lost a significant amount of weight in a fairly short amount of time.

“When I was told you’d be expecting me, I thought you’d be expecting _me._ ” Caleb started fidgeting with a button on his waistcoat, frowning as he turned to their father. “Do tell me, _Brendol_ , was there a reason you were _unable_ to explain the situation earlier?” Hux cringed at the sound of his father’s first name coming from Caleb’s lips, but Brendol merely chuckled.

“I’d heard you had…issues with authority. I see that feedback was correct.”

Caleb shrugged. “I have no _issues_ in following instructions from a superior, provided they’re not some stuck-up svaper.”

“You’ll be pleased to hear that there are no svapers serving the First Order.” Despite himself, Hux felt a keen pang of jealousy as he watched the way Brendol looked at Caleb. “I imagine you’ll find the conditions on the _Finalizer_ much more agreeable than Arkanis.”

“I suppose we’ll see.” He turned back to Hux, ignoring their father’s lingering attention. “I looking forward to working with you.”

“You’ll be working with the techs, mostly.” His tone was sharper than he’d intended it to be.

“Of course. Did our _illustrious_ father explain the other reason I’m here?” Hux glanced across the desk for some kind of explanation and, realising one was not forthcoming, Caleb continued speaking. “No, I suppose not. Well, then…allow me. _We’re sick_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssst, bonus points to anyone who caught the line from Dragon Age ;)


	5. Ashes, ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly smut, you have been warned ;)

_Take him and cut him out in little stars,_  
_And he will make the face of heaven so fine_  
_That all the world will be in love with night_  
_And pay no worship to the garish sun._

William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

 

* * *

  

Dr. Aoife Hux may not have let something so trivial as _illness_ prevent her from reviewing her children’s holofiles, but her hand stilled as she came to Ash. There hadn’t been anything particularly outstanding about him. He’d had the same face as all the rest, of course. He’d performed admirably, and his life had played out almost exactly as expected, with only one notable anomaly – he was dead at the age of thirty-four.

She gripped the datapad tighter when she began to cough, taking care not to let it slip from her hand – these things were notoriously flimsy _and_ costly. When the coughing subsided, she took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the spray of blood and saliva on the screen, so that Ash’s face was clean again. She’d never met him, but Aoife found herself hoping that he’d at least had access to appropriate medical treatments, that he hadn’t _suffered_ too much. It was a foolish hope, she knew, looking at the spots of red on her handkerchief, and it did no one any good. Pretending they didn’t exist and ignoring their pain did no one any good.

 It was time something changed _._

 

* * *

 

“Today was…unusual,” Ren said softly. “I’d understand if you wanted some time to yourself.”

“I don’t.” He _really_ didn’t.

“Then do you want to _talk_?”

“Not especially.” Hux’s hand found its way to Ren’s thigh, clawing at the leather. “You’re not reading my thoughts.”

“I try not to. _Someone_ told me it was rude to look in another person’s head without permission.” His fingers wrapped around Hux’s wrist as he started to unfasten his belt. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He leaned forward to catch Ren’s lips with his own. “Maybe later I’ll…but at least for now, _yes._ ” Hux didn’t want to think about anything, and stroking Ren’s cock through his leggings was a pleasant enough distraction. _For now._ After removing his belt, it wasn’t long before Ren had detached the suspenders and wriggled out of them and, as usual, he wasn’t wearing any undergarments. Honestly, Hux wondered how he could even be _comfortable_ like that, but he was not inclined to complain. 

“Bed?” Hux glanced at the dark satin sheets and shook his head.

“No.” He separated from Ren, but kept hold of his hand to lead him in the other direction, towards the armchair. Ren smirked when he saw the lube and condoms already on the side table.

“You _planned_ this. Even though you didn’t know I’d be coming here tonight.”

“Perhaps you’re more predictable than you like to think,” Hux murmured, pulling him into his lap as he sat down. The two of them barely fit, and ended up squashed against one another, Ren’s limbs poking out at odd angles. In spite of the strange day he’d had, Hux heard himself laugh. “I’m not sure this is going to work.”

“Not _comfortable_ , General?” Hux rolled his eyes and gave him a gentle shove, nodding towards the bed. When he paused to readjust the bedding Hux gave him another push, applying just enough force that Ren toppled forwards onto the bed, ending up with his face buried in one of the pillows and his ass in the air. Hux ran a gloved finger along the black mesh of his vest, tracing the line of his spine and smiling at the muffled moan when he let his fingertip linger around the cleft. 

 _Aren’t you forgetting something?_ Hux was about to reply when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. The sight of condoms and a bottle of lube floating across the room would probably have caused him to laugh if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with the view in front of him. 

“Ah, yes. Thank you.” Ren mumbled something into the pillow but it didn’t sound particularly urgent, unlike the noise he made when two of Hux’s fingers, slick with lube, slid carefully inside him. As with most things Hux did, each action was precise, calculated and designed to wind Kylo Ren up as much as possible. 

He kept up the pace as he unfastened his own belt and trousers, pushing them down to his knees. With only one hand it was more difficult than he’d anticipated but somehow Ren was managing to concentrate enough to offer assistance, he realised, as he felt the force-touch brush against his thigh. He bit his lip when it moved to his cock, completely in sync with the rhythm of his own fingers – only when a third slips in does Ren momentarily falter. After a few more thrusts, he slowly retracted them. 

“Turn around.” Ren rolled over, hair clinging to his forehead. It was only then that Hux realised it must have been a very long time indeed since he’d had it trimmed. If it got much longer it would be impossible to keep it contained in his helmet without him tying it back. Hux thought he might like that.

“You don’t want me to get a haircut?” Ren grinned, using the force to draw Hux closer to him.

“What happened to _not_ poking around in my head?”

“I said I _try_ not to. It’s…more difficult when you’re thinking about me.” His smile softened, and with it the rest of his features, even the once angry scar. He tried not to wonder if this was what Ben Solo had looked like, and removed his gloves to tear open one of the foil packets on the bedside table. Ren groaned.

“What?”

“You’re really taking your time with that. Just-” Words turned into sobs as Hux all but slammed into him.

“You were saying?”

“…Nothing,” Ren whispered, pulling him closer to kiss his neck.


	6. Little ball of fur

_“The life so short, the craft so long to learn.”_ – Hippocrates

 

* * *

  

“I know you’re awake,” Ren said. Hux opened one of his eyes – the blue one – and looked in his direction. His eyes were tired, but his mind was not. 

“Yes. What of it?” He hissed when Ren’s cold feet touched his, prompting a chuckle. 

“I…used to want a little brother or sister when I was younger.” Ren hesitated for a moment. “Didn’t you ever think about what it would be like to have siblings?”  

“Not really,” Hux shrugged. “I didn’t particularly _like_ spending time with other children.” He cringed as he recalled his early years at the Academy. Ren didn’t say anything, but he could tell he’d sensed his displeasure towards the memory.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not children anymore. Even so…I’ve heard twins often have a special kind of bond, so maybe it would have been-”

“We do not have a _bond._ ” 

“I know. Not yet, at least.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Hux snapped. “Do you know how many clones- how many of _us_ there are? Are you suggesting I ought to become acquainted with every single one of them, too? Or just the one who _happened_ to share a womb with me?” 

“Hux.” He felt the feathery-light touch of the Force on his cheek. “There’s only one of _you._ The Force resides differently in _every_ living being.” Hux rolled his eyes, knowing that Ren had expected exactly that. It was a common response of his whenever they discussed the Force. 

“And I suppose _you_ felt that.”

“Of course. Just like I _feel_ that you’re interested in what it was that I felt.” Hux could moan and grumble all he liked, but he was well aware it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

“You’re going to tell me either way, so you may as well just come out with whatever it is that you’re _dying_ to say.” When Ren let out an exasperated sigh, it occurred to him that perhaps his choice in words had been poor.

“It might not have been obvious to you, since I was wearing my mask at the time, but when you told me he was unwell it wasn’t a surprise. The Force, it…it _flickers_ around him. Crackles, like a fire that needs feeding. It’s…concerning.” He didn’t say it out loud, Ren _must_ have been thinking about the possibility that _Hux_ could succumb to the same illness. 

“One of the- one of my… _brothers,”_ he struggled, still disliking the word Caleb had used, “is due to arrive later today. He’s a doctor. I understand that he’s been researching the disease for some time. My father agreed to allow him access to the medical facilities here.”

“On the _Finalizer?”_

“Our technology is far more advanced than many of the laboratories in _Republic_ space,” Hux smiled, unable to mask the pride in his words. His thoughts returned to Ren’s previous statement. “You said the Force…that Caleb feels like fire, but that it _feels_ different in each person – even in clones.” Ren nodded, understanding the question before it was asked.

“Ice,” he said, letting his amusement at Hux’s expression show. “ _No,_ I’m not making fun of you. A glacier - shimmering, fragile and powerful all at once.” Hux’s thoughts turned to the gigantic ice structures on the planet that had become Starkiller Base, and he felt as if something bitter had gotten stuck in his throat. So he buried his face in Ren’s chest for the few minutes remaining before his alarm clock called him back to reality.

 

* * *

 

At least he knew _precisely_ who he was expecting this time, Hux thought, straightening his hat before heading to the _Finalizer’s_ hangar. He was unsurprised when Caleb had insisted on joining him.

“Lieutenant Mitaka showed you the way to the hangar yesterday, did he not? Was his instruction inadequate?” 

“Not at all. I’m afraid it’s my sense of direction that’s inadequate. I had no idea star destroyers were so _labyrinthine_ in structure. It’s quite fascinating.” 

“How did you survive on Jakku if your sense of direction is so poor?”

“Stars. Landmarks. I’m sure I’ll find my way around eventually, but all the corridors here-” Hux winced at the particularly nasty cough that interrupted Caleb’s reply. “-All the corridors here look the same to me.” A few officers passed them on their way, puzzled glances preceding salutes that were not as swift, nor as smooth as he would have liked. The stormtroopers were more confident in their acknowledgements, light bouncing off their helmets as they went by.

“You’ve talked to Dr. Valorum before,” Hux said stiffly, walking a little faster. 

“Yes, he…advises me on my medication. But I’ve only spoken with him via comm, so this will be my first time meeting him in person, too.” The Valorum dynasty still enjoyed an influential political presence in the galaxy, so far as Hux knew, and so he wondered what might have prompted him to pursue a career in medicine. Knowing his father, the one thing he could be certain about was that it had not been mere chance.

Caleb leaned against an unused console, tapping one of his work boots against the other. They were so worn that part of the steel cap poked through the leather around the toe, but Hux refrained from turning his nose up. The noise was irritating, but it was preferable to the way he’d begun to pace around their father’s officer the previous day.

“Aren’t you excited to meet him?” But he still talked too much. “Since you already met _me,_ it should be less…weird.”

“I doubt that, _and_ he’s late,” Hux sighed. He didn’t have _time_ to be waiting around the hangar, listening to Caleb clicking his heels together and chattering and… “Could you perhaps stop sniffling quite so much?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry if it’s _inconvenient_ for your sensitive ears, General,” he said, flashing him a lackluster smile. “Anyhow, you won’t have to put up with it much longer. I’m guessing _that’s_ his shuttle.” Hux felt the stirring of a headache as Caleb stalked off towards the docking bay without waiting for him. As he followed, he saw another red-haired figure step out from the shuttle and launch himself into Caleb’s arms. 

“Ah, sorry,” he mumbled, adjusting a pair of oversized glasses that reminded Hux of ‘Matt’. “It’s just really nice to _finally_ meet you in person and it was a _really_ long ride, or at least it felt like it anyway, and-” _Another one who talks too much, with an odd accent to boot._ Hux made a mental note to take some painkillers for his headache before it got much worse.

“Don’t worry about it,” Caleb laughed. “I’m not _that_ fragile. I’m sure you’ve guessed, but this is-”

“General Hux!” Much to Hux’s relief, he didn’t attempt to hug him, but simply extended his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you.” He could have sworn he heard Caleb snort.

“Dr. Valorum-”

“You can call me Tim.”

“ _Dr. Valorum_ ,” Hux began again. “What is _that?_ ” Both Caleb and the newcomer turned to look at the thing in question – a ball of orange fur emitting a plethora of disturbing noises. Tim Valorum beamed.

“This is Millicent.”


	7. Heart of gold

“There are few reasons for telling the truth, but for lying the number is infinite.” - Carlos Ruiz Zafón,  _The Shadow of the Wind_  

 

* * *

 

Caleb watched as his brother wrinkled his nose in response to the creature called Millicent. It was strange, but seemed harmless enough once one became used to noises it made – some sounded like the low hum of his old speeder and others were shrill, more urgent.

“ _She_ is a therapy pet.” Millicent purred as Tim stroked her fur, stopping to scratch behind her pointed ears.

“Perhaps I ought to have been clearer. What _species_ is this animal?” When Tim did not answer, the corner of the general’s mouth twitched, while the rest of his muscles tensed. “I _do_ hope you haven’t brought an unknown species aboard this vessel, Dr. Valorum.”

“Not un _known_ ,” he insisted, fidgeting with his glasses. “Un _usual_ , perhaps, but I can assure you she’s perfectly safe, and has _very_ good hygiene.”

“I’m sure Millicent isn’t going to be running around the _Finalizer_ causing mischief and mayhem,” Caleb said, ignoring the glare from his brother. “Right, Tim?”

“Right – of course not. She won’t be any trouble at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Millicent yawned, revealing small but sharp teeth, before stretching her legs and settling into a more comfortable position on Tim’s lap. The way her eyes darted from one of them to another suggested she might be aware that she was the centre of attention. Or perhaps she was confused at ‘seeing triple’. “How have you been, Caleb?” 

“Oh, _marvelous._ As usual.” Tim looked more than a little skeptical. It was hard to fool someone who resembled you so closely, whose habits and mannerisms mimicked your own. But telling the truth was harder. “Really, I’ve been fine.”

“Ah, I get it,” Tim smiled. “You miss Lucy. Well, don’t worry. A little bird told me she should be arriving within the week, too.” It would have been impossible for either of them not to notice the general’s jaw clench at that moment.

“Your wife?” he guessed. However rotten he was feeling, Caleb had to try very hard indeed not to laugh at that. “I’m sure our father _must_ have made you aware that it is hardly _customary_ to bring your spouse with-” 

“Hell, no! She’s my – _our_ niece.”

* * *

  

Lucy Kera was cold. She had her umbrella and the yellow raincoat Caleb had bought for her, but even for Arkanis, the downpour of rain and sleet was exceptional. She had grown more used to the rainy planet during the two years she’d lived there there, but she could sense her father’s frustration as he’d trudged through mud and slime and Mother of Moons knows what else. At least they’d made it indoors and, if the weather was better, they’d catch a ride in the morning. To wherever Caleb was.

“Don’t know how the two of you stick this place,” Bill grumbled to his daughter, using the coarse woolen sleeve of his jumper to shake the raindrops out of his beard. “Bad enough when the weather’s ‘normal’.” Lucy didn’t tell him she liked the rain, that it made the rare glimpses of sunshine that much more spectacular.

“Is Mam coming with us?” she asked instead.

“You know Rosy’s working at the moment. You’ll see her soon enough.” Lucy wrung out her ginger curls out over a bucket that had been placed beneath a leak in the roof, annoyed with how tangled they’d become. She hoped she’d be able to get a haircut soon. Once she was done she hung their raincoats up by the door before taking a seat next to her father at the bar. Because of the weather the cantina was packed, with most of the customers huddled around damp but sturdy-looking tables. One of the groups closest to her was rather rowdy, roaring with laughter at a joke her father had said she’s understand “when she was older”, and another was much less animated, engaged in a game of sabacc. Caleb had taught her how to play _pure_ sabacc, but she was having trouble following this game since the rules kept changing.

“Do you have firebird eggs?” she asked the woman behind the bar.

“Don’t know about firebirds, love. But we have _eggs._ ” She nodded. They were her favourite, but any of the eggs on Arkanis would remind her what home tasted like. Bill ordered an ale and a slab of jogan fruit cake, most of which he wolfed down before her eggs and soldiers had even finished cooking.

“Thank you.” The woman smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome, love. Always nice to see a kid with manners. ‘Specially in this day and age.” She tensed as Bill ruffled her hair.

“It’s been difficult since her mam left us, but…she’s a good girl.” He sighed as he drank the last of his ale. “Don’t know _what_ I’d do without her. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“I don’t tend to give my name to customers,” she smirked, pouring another drink. “But this one’s on the house.” Lucy thanked her again when she slipped her a dark chocolate, but she found it hard to muster as much enthusiasm. 

“Well, whatever your name might be, you have a heart of gold,” he said, raising his glass to her. Lucy waited until the woman was occupied with another customer before speaking in hushed tones. 

“And yours is made of _steel._ ”


	8. Silver bells and cockle shells

 “I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us.”

– Umberto Eco, _Foucault’s Pendulum_

 

* * *

  

Ren looked at the image on the datapad Hux had handed to him, first focusing on Caleb, who towered over the woman standing next to him. She had copper curls, freckled amber skin and a smile like sunshine. Between them was a little girl with wavy red hair and the same smile. They were all wearing brightly coloured raincoats.

“So, she’s your…niece.” Hux hesitated.

“Not really _._ She’s not _his_ daughter,” he said, indicating Caleb. “Not that you’d pick that up from him, with the way he carries on about her.” 

“But she _does_ share half of her DNA with you.” That much was true. Yes, genetics were important. And yet he… _Ben_ had inherited Han Solo’s genes. That made Ren angry, so he thought of his grandfather instead, grateful that his boyfriend was gracious enough not to mention that fact. _Boyfriend? Since when did I start thinking…_

“I…suppose that’s true,” Hux murmured, looking at the image again. He sighed. “As part of Caleb’s work contract, my father promised to provide accommodation for Lucy.” _Lucy._ It was a pretty name.

“Her parents are willing to just…send her away?” 

“Her mother works as a commercial pilot,” Hux said. That made sense. She was away from home a lot. “But keeps in touch via comm, spends time with her once the…tourist season is over.” Ren could feel Hux’s annoyance like searing ice. How could anyone consider going on _holiday_ when the galaxy was plagued by the Resistance, the remnants of the New Republic? But then, Hux had spent a lifetime knowing nothing but the First Order. He didn’t mention Lucy’s father.

“Perhaps… _we_ should take a holiday.” Ren’s jaw began to drop as Hux continued. “Not now, _obviously,_ ” he added hastily. “After…” Neither of them were quite sure how that sentence should finish, when they’d be _able_ to find the time _._ But it didn’t seem to matter. When Hux smiled, it felt like cool stones pressed against his skin on a summer afternoon. Refreshing, soothing, grounding. He hadn’t realised how warm his lips were until he leaned towards Hux, kissing him on the cheek. 

“We will.”

* * *

 

He and Tim had gone to the docking bay early that morning, since neither of their shifts started until the afternoon, but Caleb was having trouble settling. He paced around, trying to shake off some of his agitation as they waited for Lucy’s ship to arrive. When he’d looked out from the observation deck it had been little more than a silver speck amongst the spray of stars. He was unsure how much time had passed since then, but it seemed to be taking the ship an age to move.

“By the way, Tim, you know how yesterday you said your account wasn’t set up yet and I let you use my login…”

“Yes?” Caleb sighed loudly. He even had the gall to look _innocent._

“Well, it’s a funny thing. My brother just spent fifteen minutes lecturing me about using the official First Order network to download…how did he put it? _Inappropriate_ holovids. Apparently featuring such delights as rathtar tentacles, of _all the things._ ”

“Oh…right, sorry about that.” Caleb raised an eyebrow. Was that _all_ he had to say about it? “I didn’t realise you’d get into trouble.”

“Why the hell were you downloading vids like that _two hours_ after getting here?”

“Hmm, I thought I might get bored,” he shrugged. Caleb snickered, despite his frustration. 

“ _Rathtars_ though?” Tim had the decency to blush this time.

“It’s the _actress_ I like.”

“Nice, shapely tentacles? Hey, each to their own,” he winked. When Tim didn’t reply, he touched his arm lightly. “I’m just teasing.”

“You think I’m weird.”

“Maybe a little. But you didn’t have much of a chance really, you’re genetically identical to _me_.” That made him smile again, at least. “And speaking of _weird,”_ he added quietly, as their conversation was interrupted by the echo of military boots clicking on immaculate mirrored floors. It would have been impossible for him not to recognise the particular rhythm of those footsteps when they were so close to his own.

“General.”

* * *

 

Lucy had never seen a _Resurgent_ -class Star Destroyer before – not in _real_ life. She’d seen Imperial Star Destroyers in holodramas and when her mam had shown her diagrams and cross-sections of those, and she figured they weren’t too different. But seeing one up close was like looking at a monster. An ominous, hulking purrgil that hid its gigantic tentacles whilst it loomed, waiting to strike anything it didn’t like the look of.

“Why is Caleb on that ship?” she asked, when it became clear that the Star Destroyer really _was_ where their beaten-up little ship was headed. She felt sick. 

“Ask him when we dock.” Lucy wasn’t sure how she knew this ship was the _Finalizer,_ but she did. Fear and death clung to it. Ships did not have minds, but they remembered. And the _Finalizer_ wore its memories like the parasites she’d seen attached to purrgils’ fins.

Bill swore when last night’s eggs and soldiers resurfaced, splashing his boot. The stench was vile, and Lucy apologised to the pilot while her father pulled out a moth-eaten handkerchief to wipe his boot clean.

“No worries, kid,” he chuckled. “Had cargo that smelt _much_ worse than a bit of sick.” She liked the pilot, even if he was taking them to the Star Destroyer. He was called Gray, but his hair was the colour of sand, and he liked to play sabacc, too. “Not far to go now, but let me know if it’s too bumpy for you.”

“Sure,” she said, reluctantly taking out her own handkerchief to clean herself up. Her mam had embroidered two small starships that looked like birds in the corner, and she did her best to avoid dirtying them.

As they approached the _Finalizer,_ it occurred to her that it wasn’t so much a monster as a shell. And shells weren’t as frightening. Shells could be _broken_.


	9. The sun so hot, it chilled my bones

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”

\- Terry Pratchett, _A Hat Full of Sky_

* * *

 

_Aoife looked up at the sound of metallic footsteps. DDM-38 had arrived with a cup of caf. Even before she took a sip, the smell seemed to shake the cobwebs away, make the weight of her eyelids that much more bearable. From the taste of it, she could tell Brendol had made it himself – strong but sweet, just how she liked it. Almost smiling, she recalled when they’d first met, and how she’d been amused to find he drank his own caf with almost as much milk as water._

_“Thank you, DeeDee.” The commute from work to the GeneLab had felt longer than usual today but it had been necessary to see Caleb. When she arrived, he’d been drawing on a sheet of paper. She’d grown so accustomed to datapads and other technology that using paper seemed unusual, old-fashioned._

_“Would you like some colours?” Aoife had asked him, but he’d shaken his head._

_“It’s the white butterfly from the story.” Ah, yes. She was glad that story had made an impression on him. One day, she hoped she would have the chance to tell him more stories. But soon the Rebel Alliance – no, the_ New Republic – _would be on their way to Arkanis. She drank the last of her caf, and went back to packing her suitcase._

* * *

 

“Caleb!” He didn’t even have time to ask the general what the _hell_ Kylo Ren was doing with him before Lucy was running in his direction. The _Finalizer’s_ docking bay was clearly not the place to be if he wished to avoid human collisions, he noted. But he couldn’t help smiling. 

“Hello, sunshine.” If she’d noticed the others – and he was sure she _had_ – she didn’t let on. He stroked her hair when she wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to smooth out some of the knotted tresses. “Seems you forgot what a _brush_ was without your mam or me around.” She clicked her tongue, that very same way Rosy did.

“Seems _you_ forgot to eat,” she said, jabbing his stomach.

“Hey, that hurt,” he chuckled, and looked at Tim, who was biting his nails. “Anyhow, as happy as _I_ am to see you, there’re other people who’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” He took Lucy’s hand and twirled her around in a well-practiced motion, until she was facing Tim. General Hux and Kylo Ren would have to _wait_.

“Hi, Lucy,” he said, fiddling with the frames of his glasses. He seemed shy again, like when Caleb had teased him. “I’m Tim, I’m…”

“Uncle Tim,” she finished for him, grinning. Lucy was _not_ especially shy. “I heard Caleb talking to you on the comm. Mam said you’re a good _inference_.”

 _“Influence,”_ Hux corrected her, probably out of habit. He wasn’t easy to get to know, but that seemed like the kind of habit he’d have. Lucy ignored him for now, reaching out to shake Tim’s hand instead, before surprising him with a hug instead.

“Rue’s taking his time,” Caleb muttered, looking over to the little starship.

“Oh.” Lucy looked down for a moment, caught off-guard. “Narue didn’t bring me.” That could only mean one thing. Caleb sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt another headache coming on.

“Your father,” he said, watching Bill step out onto the docking bay. Yes, he would _definitely_ need to ask Tim for some stronger painkillers.

* * *

 

Something stung when the girl blanked him and he’d winced. Ren noticed, using the wispy touch of the Force to brush against his hand, slipping beneath the glove. It was then that Lucy turned to look at him, or rather to _glare_ at him. Her eyes were the same emerald colour as Caleb, Dr. Valorum’s and, no doubt, her father’s. Except for the ice-blue segment that cut across the iris of her right eye – that matched _his_ single blue eye.

Her gaze flickered away just as quickly. As Hux had suspected, he had no idea how to speak with a child. He hadn’t particularly liked children when _he_ was a child, and the only ones he’d seen regularly over the last few years were those destined to become stormtroopers. But while he was in charge of the program itself, _they_ were primarily Captain Phasma’s responsibility.

No, General Hux was _not_ good with children.

 _There’s something strange about her._ There was something comforting about hearing Ren’s voice in his head, even when the things he said were potentially unsettling. _No, not dangerous,_ he added. _But I think she might…_ Lucy had turned to look at them again, still frowning. Dr. Valorum glanced towards Caleb, who appeared to be having some kind of altercation with Lucy’s father after walking over to the starship, before taking it upon himself to attempt to introduce them.

“I know who he is,” Lucy said coolly, focusing on Hux’s eyes with a burning intensity. The resulting feeling was akin to the one he’d had the day he and Ren had argued about the BB unit. Her concentration was only broken by a loud _THUMP_ which turned out to have been her father’s fist colliding with the little ship they’d arrived in. Lucy sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Lucy, would you like to meet Millicent?” This time, Dr. Valorum’s words were met with a grin.

“Who’s Millicent? Your girlfriend?” He laughed softly, then smiled timidly as she slipped her hand into his.

“No. You’ll see when we get there.” He turned to Hux. “Could you…tell Caleb and Bill where we’ve gone?” Hux ground his teeth, but nodded. He didn’t much care for interrupting the argument in the docking bay, though he also knew that if he didn’t intervene soon it could affect the workers’ morale. The _Finalizer_ was becoming far too crowded of late. As they walked away Lucy skipped to keep up with Dr. Valorum’s long strides, rather than asking him to slow down. Ren was right – she was a strange child. 

Just as Hux mentally prepared for his intervention, Ren gripped his wrist, gently but firmly. 

“I was right,” he said, as quietly as he could with the mask distorting his voice. “About the girl. She’s _Force-sensitive._ ” Hux’s fingernails would have scraped against his palms, had he not been wearing his gloves.

 _Of_ kriffing _course._


	10. Words will never hurt me

_"I’m not saying that_

_I felt like you cared_

_I’m not saying that_

_I want to go back"_

\- Devics, _Salty Seas_

 

* * *

 

Millicent rolled onto her back, letting the smaller human stroke her belly. She purred. Millicent enjoyed meeting new people. Some of them looked like her companion, but they had different smells. The girl was her favourite of all these new acquaintances. Her hands were soft and she had a pleasant smell, like sunshine after the rain.

She swiped at the fingers wriggling above her nose, but they were too quick, as if the girl could tell when she was about to strike. It gave the game an edge, and Millicent appreciated the challenge. Especially since she hadn’t found a single rat since she’d come here – she missed hunting and her companion, like most humans, was slow, clumsy and completely unable to fend for himself. But this girl, with reflexes like that she could probably catch rats – just not as many as Millicent could. After all, she _was_ only human.

  

* * *

  

“I noticed my shift ends at the same time as yours, and you _still_ haven’t bought me that drink you promised,” Mitaka said, internally berating himself for his utter failure to sound casual about it – it just seemed to have been so _long_ since he’d been able to simply relax and have a drink with someone after work. A smile spread across Caleb’s face, but there was nothing mocking about it. 

“Oh, I thought you’d been _avoiding_ me all week.” 

“Why would I do that?” Caleb shrugged.

“Maybe you were worried I’d get you into trouble again.”

“That…wasn’t your fault.” It really wasn’t. That was just how Kylo Ren was. His throat was still sore, and his voice a little hoarse, but Mitaka had been luckier than others who’d crossed the knight’s path. Even so, he _much_ preferred to avoid dealing with or even being in the same _room_ as Kylo Ren. 

Caleb, on the other hand, didn’t seem particularly fazed by the prospect of reporting to him. _And_ , somewhat amusingly (though, concerned that his thoughts could be overheard, Mitaka tried not to dwell too much on this), Kylo Ren seemed more agitated whenever Caleb was the one tasked with delivering the weapons system reports to him. It was understandable, he supposed, given his relationship with General Hux. 

“Not entirely,” he agreed, fidgeting with one of the access cylinders as he considered the numbers on the screen in front of him. “Even so, I feel a little responsible. And you still _sound_ like you need a drink. Possibly something with _honey_ – I’m thinking mead.”

“I don’t think they serve that in the officers’ lounge.”

“No? That’s a shame.” He put the access cylinder down, rolling it across the surface of his workstation as he began to calculate and enter new values. “If you’d like to go on ahead I’ll join you right after I finish these calibrations.” Mitaka made a noise that was almost a giggle.

_“Caleb_ rations.” Silence.

“You did _not_ just say that, _Sir._ ”

“I can tell you’re trying not to laugh,” Mitaka said, pausing to mouth the word again.

“That was  _dreadful_ and you need to leave  _now.”_

“Fine,” he replied. “Get back to your  _Caleb_ rations then.” He had to dodge to avoid getting shoved on his way out, but he  _definitely_ heard Caleb sniggering.

 

* * *

 

_“Ren,”_ Hux snapped, jolting him back to the present as he entered the room. The sensation of raindrops running down his cheeks lingered, accompanied by a newer and more unpleasant feeling of nausea.

“I _do_ wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said, steadying himself as he rose from the armchair. He could hear Hux’s teeth grinding across the room, the sound far louder than it ought to be. “It’s disorientating.” 

“Perhaps if you actually _told_ me when you were planning on…”

“Flow-walking. I was trying to help.” He paused, expecting Hux to say something. “I’m concerned about the girl.” _Your niece._ Hux gave him a _look._

“She’s eight years old. Even if she _is_ Force-sensitive, she’s hardly a threat.” Ren pursed his lips.

“That’s not what I meant. I...” How _was_ the best way to approach this? He glanced at Vader’s charred helmet, longing for guidance. But his grandfather was silent. “I’m concerned about her well-being if she stays here,” he said finally. His brow furrowed in response to Hux’s initial reaction, which was to snort. 

“I didn’t take you for the _fatherly_ type, Ren.” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of his desk, fighting the urge to hurl something across the room.

“If you’re going to be like that, then _leave,_ ” he growled. Of _course_ Hux wouldn’t understand. “There’s no reason for you to be here. You have _plenty_ of other people you can spend time with now.” He regretted his words soon after he spoke, feeling his boyfriend’s pain like a flurry of miniature lightsabers plunging into his chest. “Hux, I-”

“I’m sorry,” Hux interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose as he considered his words. “As you know, I’m not well versed in matters regarding the Force. I- it’s not something I understand. But I _want_ to.”

Ren cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“It’s a significant part of your life, and _you’re_ a significant part of _my_ life, I suppose _._ ” He looked down, cheeks pinker than usual. “Not to mention it would be tactically advantageous, if we’re likely to be facing Skywalker,” he added quickly. Ren smiled, and realized he no longer felt nauseous.

“Of _course_ , General.”

 

* * *

 

Hux was still thinking about what Ren had been saying as he walked past the door to the officers’ lounge, headed towards the bridge. He knew he was missing some piece of the puzzle, but hadn’t mustered the courage to ask precisely what Ren had meant when he’d spoken to him about his concerns for Lucy’s well-being – and even if he _had_ told him anything further, Hux wasn’t sure he’d have understood. While they didn’t have _secrets_ as such, there were certain aspects of their lives that remained entirely separate from one another. Things that remained unspoken between them.

“Hello, stranger,” came the voice that echoed his own.

“Specialist,” he said, making no effort to hide his disdain when he saw that Caleb was still refusing to wear the First Order uniform he’d been issued – though at least the suit he wore _was_ black and red.

“Isn’t that a little formal?” he grinned. “I’m not on duty right now.”

“I am, however,” Hux replied. It wasn’t false, strictly speaking. As a general and commander of the _Finalizer,_ he was never truly off-duty. 

“Oh, well…when _are_ you next off-duty? I’ve barely seen you all week and I was hoping-”

 “I have responsibilities,” he said curtly. If it hadn’t been for the fact they _looked_ so alike, he would never have believed the two of them were related. Briefly, he’d even entertained the idea that this was all some kind of joke, that his father was playing some kind of trick on him to see how he’d react. “While I am pleased with the increase in the artillery crew’s efficiency since you arrived, I’m afraid I don’t have _time_ to be socializing with members of the crew outside of work.”

Caleb leaned against the wall, quiet for a rare moment. “You really think of me as just another co-worker?” _No,_ Hux thought. _That would require us to actually work_ together _in some capacity._ “You’re my _brother._ ”

Hux winced, and tried to ignore the glances as a couple of other officers walked past. “We may be related by blood, but we didn’t grow up together. We’re not brothers.”

 “We _could_ be,” he said softly. Hux muttered a half-hearted goodbye as he continued on his way to the bridge, pretending he hadn’t heard. Pretending the painful weight in his chest was nothing more than a fleeting irritation.

 

* * *

 

By the time Caleb arrived, Mitaka was about to order his own drink. It wasn’t that Caleb had taken that long to arrive, just that he was extremely thirsty – a side effect of his somewhat _unusual_ work-related injury was feeling like he had a ball of scrunched up sandpaper stuck in his throat.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. What can I get you?” Caleb was fidgeting with the access cylinder again. He watched it twirl, quickly but gracefully, while he considered his options. Caleb noticed him watching. “Yeah, _I know_ , I’m pretty good with my hands.” Mitaka snickered. 

“Mmm, I think I’ll just have a Corellian ale.” He didn’t much care for those sickly-sweet, brightly-coloured cocktails that some of the other officers seemed to enjoy. Caleb nodded and scanned the drinks menu for himself, taking a good deal longer than most people did before finally settling on some kind of fruit juice.

“I can’t drink most of this stuff,” he explained. Mitaka nodded. He assumed it was because of whatever meds he had to take, but it didn’t seem very polite to ask outright. Besides, now that he took the opportunity to observe him more closely, Caleb _already_ seemed more than a little frazzled. It was for that reason that Mitaka led him to a table in the quieter corner of the lounge – that and the chairs were more comfortable. 

“Huh, I’m pretty sure this _isn’t_ hindian pear juice.” 

“And this ale is _definitely_ watered down,” Mitaka smiled. But they both shrugged and kept drinking regardless.

“I guess fancy establishments like this aren’t really that different from cantinas, when it comes down to it.” Now that he’d put the cylinder away, it was difficult not to notice the way Caleb’s fingernails dragged across his palms and wrists as they spoke, leaving angry red trails across ivory skin. It was…distressing. Mitaka slid his hand into Caleb’s, thankful that he didn’t seem to find the touch too intrusive or inappropriate.

“I wouldn’t really know. Obviously I’m familiar with the concept, but I’ve never _been_ to a cantina.”

_“Seriously?”_ Caleb laughed, his thumb brushing lightly over Mitaka’s knuckles. “Well, you’re not missing out on much, except…the food. My taste buds aren’t quite what they used to be so it’s difficult to tell sometimes, _but_ I think they’re actually just serving cleverly-disguised sawdust in the _Finalizer’s_ canteen.”

“You’re right, they are. I’ve been telling people this for years.” The food at the Academy had been a little better but, when he really thought about it, Mitaka couldn’t recall a meal he’d _truly_ enjoyed.

“It makes me miss Lucy’s cooking,” Caleb sighed.

“Lucy…I thought you said she was _eight._ ”

“She is! And she _still_ made me breakfast every morning. Firebird eggs, sunny-side up, with soldiers. It was one of the first things I taught her to cook.” Mitaka notices his hand stills for a few moments as he talks about Lucy.

“Earlier...you said you had some drawings she made on your datapad. Do you think she’d be okay with you showing me them?” Caleb beamed, one hand squeezing Mitaka’s, the other reaching for the datapad.


	11. Falling down, falling down

_“Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us.”_

\- Yoda, describing the Force to Luke Skywalker

 

* * *

  

Tim turned back towards Caleb once the medical droid had confirmed his assessment. A chest infection – not something that would warrant concern in most patients. But Caleb was not most patients. Still, it was good that they’d caught it early. Now, with any luck, the infection wouldn’t get the opportunity to spread to his lungs.

“Antibiotics?” he asked, still sounding groggy.

“Yes,” Tim replied, trying to determine which course of medication would be the best. He could leave the decision to the droids, but he preferred to take full responsibility for his patient. Especially when that patient was his brother. “We should probably think about increasing your Aricastor intake, too.”

“Okay,” Caleb coughed. “Anything that means less bacteria setting up home in my lungs is good.” Tim smiled, and pulled out one of the drawers to his left.

“And…you might want to wear this,” he said, handing over a blue-green mask.

“Seriously?”

“I’m afraid so. There’re a lot of bugs going around this ship at the minute - believe me, _I’d_ know. The last thing you want is to catch one of those when you’re already sick.” Caleb stretched out the mask and sighed.

“I’m _always_ sick.” Tim was about to reply when Jenna walked in, wearing the slightly-too-big white coat over her sleek black uniform, and carrying a couple of cups of caf.

“Dr. Valorum” – apparently _nobody_ listened when he insisted it was fine to call him ‘Tim’ – “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were seeing a patient right now. I’ll just leave this here for you.” She gave a polite nod as she placed the cup on one of the work surfaces, and left quickly, barely even giving Tim a chance to thank her. During that brief period, Caleb’s usual sense of mischief seemed to have returned to him.

“Already got one of your co-workers waiting on you? My, my…next she’ll be inviting you back to her _quarters_ for caf.” Tim felt his cheeks redden at the suggestion.

“It’s not like that. Dr. Tooare just had her break.” No need to mention that he usually called her as Jenna, even if she preferred to address him more formally. “She treated our- your mother, you know. Before...” Caleb swallowed.

“It’s okay,” he croaked, the sickness like a noose around his throat. “She _was_ your mother, too. Did Dr. Tooare…say anything about what happened to her?” Tim brushed his fingertips across Caleb’s forehead – it was warm, but not _too_ warm.

“Not in great detail, no. Just that the breakthrough the medical team had…well, it turned out to be anything but.” He paused, forced himself to say it: “Her symptoms seemed to improve at first, but then her condition deteriorated rapidly. She was pronounced d-”

“Please,” Caleb said, tears in his eyes, voice muffled by the mask he’d put on. “Don’t.” Tim nodded – not everyone was so well-versed in detaching themselves from the word itself as he was, and he would do well to remember it. Still, the problem remained – the research team affiliated with the First Order was no closer to finding a cure than he had been.

 _Together, we will be successful,_ he told himself, for the fourth time that week.

 

* * *

 

“But how does it _work_?” Hux asked. Ren sighed again. When Hux had told him he wanted to better understand the Force he’d been happy, but now that he was demanding a scientific explanation, Ren was beginning to lose patience.

“It’s not easy to explain. It’s more something you need to _experience_.” He sensed Hux was about to object. “ _Any_ living being can feel the Force,” he continued, “even if some are not so attuned to it as others.” 

“But not everyone can do what you do. I cannot kill someone with my _mind._ ”

“No one can.” Not even Darth Vader could do _that._ “It’s being aware of that energy, focusing on it, manipulating it – like weaving a tapestry or tugging on the loose threads…without unravelling the whole thing. It requires patience, control, _order._ ” Hux smiled at that last word, as Ren had known he would. “When we interact with someone, we notice things about them – their moods, or what they might be thinking. When I _focus_ on those things, they become crisper, more detailed, but also more complex. Peeling back each layer to examine what lies beneath is no _easy_ feat, especially when met with resistance.” He thought back to that Resistance pilot – someone who had been, in many respects, more straightforward than many he’d encountered…but nevertheless challenging in his own right. The less he thought about the scavenger girl, the better. It gladdened him to see that Hux was listening intently, processing the information quickly, but not without thought.

“I imagine that’s enough about that for today,” he said after a few moments of mutual contemplation. He had no doubt that Hux had been taught at least a little about the Jedi, given that the Commandant was known to have been intrigued by some of their methods, but, first and foremost, Hux was a man of science and technology. Integrating the existence of Ren’s special abilities into his worldview would take time – he himself was having trouble getting to grips with the particulars of flow-walking.

He only hoped they would have enough of it.

 

* * *

 

Lucy peeked around the corner. The droid was still there, but so were the stormtroopers. This droid wasn’t like the others on the _Finalizer._ It wasn’t like the B1 model that she’d worked on with Narue either – the one they’d painted yellow and black, and named ‘Bee’ – but it did remind her of some of the older droid parts he’d kept in his workshop. Most of those were bronze or silver, if not brightly painted, while this droid’s plating was entirely black, making it trickier for her to match it to any of the disembodied parts she could recall.

Caleb had warned her not to wander too far from their quarters, that it was easy to get lost. _But I’ve always had a better sense of direction,_ she thought. No matter how far she strayed, she always seemed to find her way back home. The next time she looked the troopers were gone and the droid was on the move, its locomotion reminiscent of many of the officers onboard. Long, slow strides – it wasn’t in any particular hurry to reach its destination.

“Hello,” she called out. “I’m Lucy. What’s your name?” The droid turned very slowly. Now that she saw its shiny black faceplate, she recognised it as an Imperial-era DDM model. She’d never seen one like this before – they were difficult to locate nowadays, and even Narue only had a few spare parts.

“Lucy,” the droid repeated in a deep, feminine voice. “I am DDM-38.” DDM-38 kept moving, but her pace was slow enough that Lucy caught up to her with very little effort. “You may refer to me as DeeDee, if that is more convenient.” Lucy smiled.

“DeeDee is a good name.” DeeDee seemed at a loss for a few minutes, or perhaps she was simply concentrating. 

“…Thank you. Lucy is a good name, too. I searched my databanks for its meaning: _light._ ”

“That’s pretty cool. Does ‘DeeDee’ have a meaning, too?” A few more moments of silence, and then DeeDee made a noise that resembled a laugh, though there was nothing cheerful about it.

“Beloved.”

 

* * *

 

“What is it like?” Mitaka asked quietly. “Living under the New Republic?” It had become part of his routine now, coming to the officers’ lounge with Caleb whenever their shifts coincided. When it was busier, as it was that day, he held Caleb’s hand under the table to avoid unnecessary attention. He was often on edge, but when their fingers curled and unfurled around one another’s it appeared to calm him down. Mitaka could understand why. It was a pleasant feeling, the weight of someone else’s hand in your own.

Caleb’s voice was gravelly behind the mask that almost, but didn’t _quite_ match his eyes. “Ah, I know this one. I’m supposed to say it was positively _awful_ , aren’t I? Well, I’m sure it was, for _some_ people. Ryloth wasn’t doing too well, neither was Riosa. Or…Jakku.” Mitaka nodded at this. Though he hadn’t set foot on Jakku himself, he remembered the reports of the First Order’s activities on the desert planet – how could he _forget?_

“Arkanis though…well, things were pretty good there. I mean, it rained _a lot,_ and I can’t say _I_ cared much for Senator Sindian, but that’s nothing compared to rebuilding an economy from _less_ than nothing. Our planet hadn’t inherited so many of the…how shall I put it? The less _desirable_ hangovers from Palpatine’s regime. It’s why a lot of people came there, before the Senate passed a new planetary immigration bill. Good luck getting to Arkanis if you’re not a wealthy, well-educated human.” 

Mitaka knew they could get into trouble if anyone were to overhear them but the crowd had thinned out, and it was so _rare_ to speak to anyone who had actually _lived_ in New Republic-governed space. Caleb cleared his throat, then slipped the tip of his straw beneath the mask to sip the so-called hindian pear juice.

“No wonder you had no trouble getting back.” Caleb snorted so hard that he started coughing. 

“You” – he paused, as the coughing fit had not quite subsided – “sorry, but…you _do_ know I was a scavenger when I went back to Arkanis, right?” This was news to Mitaka. He’d known Caleb had spent part of his youth on Jakku – he’d told him as much himself. But it seemed unimaginable that _Commandant Brendol Hux’s_ son would have been left to fend for himself while his family fled. Didn’t it? “I’m sorry if it disappoints you, hearing that I haven’t always been wealthy, well-educated, witty, and handsome.”

“I’m fairly sure nobody said anything about you being witty or handsome,” Mitaka smiled. 

“Of course they did. _I_ did _._ ”

“I suppose I ought to trust your information.” 

“Absolutely, _Sir._ ” When Mitaka looked at his wrist to check his chrono, he realised why they were the last ones remaining in the lounge – shift change. Whatever the reason, it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity. Equally, he found it a shame that he couldn’t properly make out Caleb’s expression when he first pressed his lips to the mask, soft and thin enough that he was able to find the warmth of the lips beneath it.


	12. Some like it cold

_“The thing with heat is, no matter how cold you are, no matter how much you need warmth, it always, eventually, becomes too much.”_

\- Victoria Aveyard, _Glass Sword_

 

* * *

  

“Are you sure? I _can_ offer you something other than tea, you know.” Caleb had to laugh when Mitaka had belatedly realized that it would be very difficult for him to drink Gatalentan tea while he was wearing his mask.

“Doph, I’ve finished my course of antibiotics and I’m not going to catch anything off you since you’re not sick. Plus,” he grinned wickedly, closing the distance between them as he cast the mask aside, “I’ve been looking forward to ripping this thing off all week…and doing _this._ ” Mitaka’s lips were warm, like they had been before, but without the mask in his way he was able to tease his lips apart with his tongue. He’d had to stoop slightly to kiss him, which in turn allowed Mitaka to comb his fingers through his hair with ease, even after the kiss was broken. 

“Well, if you are _sure_.” His cheeks were slightly pink, but he wasn’t too flustered to hold Caleb’s gaze. “Oh, before I forget-”

“This isn’t about that _blaster_ again, is it?” he joked. The two of them had spent a good deal of the afternoon trying to work out the best way for Caleb to express his opinions on the selection of blasters Captain Phasma had marked in the new catalogue from one of the First Order’s weapons manufacturers. Apparently “kriffing terrible” was “inappropriate”.

Mitaka gave his hair a playful tug. _“No._ I was about to tell you I got you a present. But maybe I’ll keep it for myself now.”

“You’re mean,” Caleb said, shaking his hair free of Mitaka’s grip. “You’re mean, and you have _bad hair_ , and I hate you.” He heard Mitaka laugh when he headed into the bathroom, before emerging with what appeared to be test tubes filled with…something.

“Bath salts,” he explained, noticing Caleb’s puzzled expression. “They’re from Mustafar. They’re supposed to help soothe congestion and respiratory problems.”

“That’s…actually really thoughtful. Thank you, and I take it back. You have wonderful hair.” He took one of the slim vials, admiring the formation of the salt crystals and… _are those rose petals?_ “But I don’t actually have a bath in my quarters.”

“I, um, thought you could use mine,” he said, a little shyly. “If you’d like to, that is.”

“Did you, now? Well, it’d be rude of me to turn down such a generous offer.” Mitaka bit his lip as he watched the gesture Caleb made with the vial in his hands. “ _And_ I need someone to show me how to use these.”

“Your tea’s going to get cold,” Mitaka smirked, leading the way.

 

* * *

 

Hux stood motionless in the shower, letting the cool water wash over him. It helped him think, or at least that was usually the case. Lately he hadn’t felt much like thinking, but Ren was in his own quarters that night, meditating – if he hadn’t seen it for himself, he wouldn’t have believed him capable of still, quiet contemplation.

Ren had been spending more time training, and with the other Knights. Of course, Hux was busy himself. Some time alone would be good, he’d told himself. _Restful_. Unfortunately, his subconscious had different plans, plaguing him with dreams that were both odd and disturbing. He’d walked through what seemed to be endless deserts, prepared to shoot a senator before backing down at the last minute, and, strangest of all, sprouted huge, feathered wings from his back before men in charcoal uniforms had taken to them with vibroblades.

Ren said dreams were visions, but Hux wasn’t force-sensitive. His mother, more romantic than many physicists he’d met, once told him that dreams were windows into other realities. If this was what they looked like, he hoped inter-dimensional travel never took off. That would be just typical. But if his mother _had_ been right – as she had been about the science that inspired the Starkiller – there should be a reality in which everything was the same, except that she hadn’t died.

_And he wasn’t going to get sick._

  

* * *

 

Bill clenched his jaw as he walked past three stormtroopers, another trailing behind them. Judging by their height, they couldn’t have been much older than Lucy. When they’d arrived he’d joked that she didn’t have to worry about being kidnapped and turned into one of them, but she hadn’t seemed to appreciate it. 

“FO-4366, do not dawdle.”

“Yes, Captain.” The deep voice the child had responded to belonged to a tall, armoured woman, a brilliant red cape draped gracefully over her broad shoulders, headed in his direction.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Bill said, when it became clear she was not going to make way for him. She stopped in her tracks, slowly tilting her mirrored helmet down to look at him.

“William Kera. Might I suggest _you_ ought to be the one to be more careful?” He smirked. He hadn’t taken the Captain for the _jealous_ type.

“Please, call me _Bill._ Is this about that trooper from earlier? FG…HIJK-” 

“ _FN-9501_ was not amused either. I believe the word she used to describe your _performance_ was…’underwhelming’.” In the time it took Bill to formulate a reply, she and the young troopers were gone. He kicked one of the cleaning droids as he walked past, but it wasn’t especially satisfying – the droid barely reacted and simply went about its business polishing the highly-shined metallic floor.

When he reached the office, he was greeted by the doors opening with a _whoosh_ and a slight chill in the air. Reporting to an office like this – it was like being back at the New Republic Academy again. Well, _not quite_. It was strange, looking into the eyes of the man behind the desk. Brendol Hux was both familiar and a stranger. Something about his mannerisms reminded him of the General – the way he leaned on his desk while keeping his back straight. 

But the General didn’t _smile_. Nor did he have an old, creepy-looking droid at his side.

“So what do you want from me?” he snapped. The anger from his encounter with Captain Phasma hadn’t quite faded. As if he hadn’t noticed Bill’s tone, Brendol’s smile grew wider.

“Sit down, and we’ll talk.”

 

* * *

 

“Get in.”

“I _told_ you. In a few minutes.” Mitaka had already stripped down to his underwear – the standard white vest and black boxer shorts provided along with their uniforms – but gingerly sat down next to the bath with his datapad. “I just need to reply to this e-mail.” 

_“Tease.”_ He laughed when Caleb splashed some of the bathwater at him.

He _was_ off-duty, but he’d thought to give Caleb a few minutes to relax before joining him, and he’d only removed his uniform because the steam had made the bathroom almost unbearably hot. _Well, it’s mostly because of the steam,_ he thought with a grin, allowing himself to glance towards Caleb while the data packet finished uploading.

Though his wet, red hair was plastered to his forehead, Mitaka noticed that the humidity had teased a slight wave into his fringe, and the harsh light from the fluorescent bulbs seemed to accentuate his freckles, and the emerald in his eyes.

“Your eyes are green?” he asked, recalling Caleb removing his lenses before sinking into the bath. “I thought those must have been tinted lenses.” Caleb snorted. 

“Yes they’re green. My brother’s the one wearing tinted lenses… _and_ covering up his freckles. Anyway,” he added slyly, “it took you long enough to _notice._ ”

“I was…appreciating another view.” 

“Hmm,” Caleb hummed, stretching his legs out towards the taps. “There _are_ a lot of good ones to choose from.” Mitaka hit send, and set the datapad aside where it wouldn’t be liable to fall into the bath before removing his vest and then, slightly more hesitantly, his boxers. Neither of them said a word as Caleb leaned forward and Mitaka dipped his toes into the water behind him. 

“I feel like I should have a cigar,” he said eventually, Caleb’s head resting against his chest.

“Isn’t it customary to smoke _after_ sex, not before?” Caleb smirked.

“You tell me,” Mitaka said, pressing his lips to his collarbone and sliding a hand down to his hip. “I’m not a smoker.”

“Neither am I, nowadays,” Caleb sighed. “If anything’s good incentive for quitting, it’s your lungs giving up on you. I suppose anything like that is frowned upon here.” 

“Alcohol is…acceptable,” Mitaka replied, gently massaging Caleb’s thigh. “In moderation.”

“And what about” – Caleb chuckled at the word – “ _fraternisation_?”

“It’s not _encouraged.”_ At this point, he let his fingers trail along Caleb’s cock. He whined at the contact. “But it’s not _prohibited_ either.” They were _supposed_ to fill in some kind of form, but this hardly seemed the proper time to bring that up.

Instead, Mitaka took the opportunity to pull his hair back and drag his lips along the sharp red hairline. He listened carefully to Caleb’s breathing as his hand continued to move slowly over his erection, his touch too soft to give him any relief. He could tell he was having trouble staying still, like a tightly-coiled spring. 

“You’re being so good,” he said softly. “So patient.” That drew a whimper from him, even as he stilled his hand completely. Writhing and moaning, with his back pressed against Mitaka’s chest was a _good_ look for Caleb.

“Turn around? You know I like looking at you.” Obediently, Caleb had turned his head to look at him before he’d even finished speaking. Mitaka rewarded his enthusiasm with a kiss, matching the pace of his hand to the languid movements of his tongue as it slid between Caleb’s lips. He seemed almost feverish, but Mitaka was pleased to note that, while Caleb _was_ loud, he hadn’t yet started recklessly rocking his hips and thrusting into his hand. It was a novelty he could appreciate. 

“Please,” Caleb whispered, breath hot against his lips. Mitaka felt his hips tremble as he struggled to hold back, moments before he met his hand with an involuntary jerk, followed by a string of expletives and several muttered apologies.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” he replied, with a thin smile. “But please try not to do it again.” As a precaution, he gripped Caleb’s thigh  _hard_ with his other hand _,_ dragging his nails along the soft flesh.

If they’d had more time, he’d have savoured the experience even more – traced the outline of Caleb’s cock with his tongue, teasing him mercilessly before taking him in his mouth. _Another time,_ he told himself. For now, he revelled in the sight of Caleb’s long, delicate fingers frantically tearing through his hair, tears of frustration in his eyes, burning the image into his memory. It would give him something pleasant to focus on next time he spent an evening on his own. When he  _finally_  let him climax, he felt Caleb reach for his hand, let the fingers interlock with his while maintaining the hold on his thigh. 

Yes, he thought, glancing at the chrono he’d left by the sink. Their tea would _definitely_ be cold by now.


	13. A world apart

“People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die.” 

– Haruki Murakami, _Norwegian Wood_

_“Not even for old times’ sake?” he grinned, holding her gaze while he titled his head. “I could give him a life, you know. Something more than that…facility.”_

_“No,” she repeated. Her decision was final, but it did come with a small shred of remorse. “The staff at the GeneLab are more than adequately equipped to handle Caleb’s needs.” She watched his fist clench around the stem of his wine glass, his knuckles whitening, tendons straining against skin._

_“Aoife, please. I would_ love _him, like he was our” – he hastily corrected himself, thought it was already too late – “_ my _own son.”_

_“That’s what I’m worried about,” she said, her voice softer this time. “I’m…sorry, Casper. You can’t take him.” Beneath the thick, dark fringe, his eyes flashed silver._

_“You’re making a mistake. I understand, of_ course _I do. It must be emotional for you. We’ve been_ forced _out of our homes by the rebel scum, and now having to leave your son like this…” He paused. “Or perhaps you’ve become so_ cold _that it doesn’t bother you, after all?” Aoife’s fingers curled in on themselves, nails digging into her palms. It would have been more satisfying to feel the sting following a collision between her hand and his face. Thinking about the crunch of cartilage and a fine spray of blood kept her voice steady._

_“I regret that the terms of the experiment do not allow me to take Caleb with me._ However _,” she said firmly, “I am confident that he is in good hands, and I will see him again.”_

_“This is a mistake,” Casper said again, shaking his head. As soon as he left, she adjusted her comlink’s mic._

_“Did you get all that?”_

_“Yes, Doctor.”_

_“Please see to it that Caleb is kept safe. If it’s necessary, take him…”_ Take him where, exactly? _They waited quietly and patiently for her reply. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, unable to believe that only forty-eight hours ago she’d been watching him draw._

_“Ask him where the white butterfly lives, and take him there.”_

* * *

 

William Kera was intelligent, a skilled marksman, and charming to dozens of women. He was also insincere, vain, and, most troubling of all, he was becoming a _nuisance_. His reasons for lingering on the _Finalizer_ were unclear, but since he’d arrived Captain Phasma had issued a complaint about his… _liaisons_ with some of the female stormtroopers. Fortunately, Brendol had found a purpose for him.

“You’re saying you want me to return to _Republic_ space?” He spoke slowly, and Brendol could almost hear his eyes rolling like marbles. 

“Precisely. You’re the most suitable person for the mission – though I did manage to persuade Lord Ren to offer his assistance. Naturally, he won’t be joining you _personally_ , but I’m sure you’ll find the knight in question worthy.”

“I’ll consider it if you tell me what this is about.” Brendol’s lips stretched into a thin smile.

“Clearly you haven’t kept up with the holo-news during the last couple of hours. The story has yet to make it to _galactic_ news, but that’s all the more reason to act _now_.” He paused for  a moment to send his droid away, before linking his datapad to the monitor in front of him – conjuring a pixelated image and several lines of text. 

 

> **_Not Another Clone War: Seth and Roslin Glass speak out against the First Order_ **
> 
> _Following the tragedy of the Hosnian System, reported sightings of the First Order’s self-styled would-be emperor, General Hux spread like wildfire – something very strange was going on. Two hours ago, Alice Vandermeer’s radio interview with Hux “clones” Seth and Roslin Glass went viral._  
>  _Before retreating to Coruscant with his sister – now a respected diplomat – Seth claimed to have graduated from one of the First Order’s “secret academies” in the Unknown Regions, and revealed a number of disturbing details about his time aboard the Star Destroyer-based academy._  
>  _When Vandermeer asked about the academy’s training regime he replied that, for most cadets, it was relatively similar to the instruction cadets of the New Republic receive, although he admitted to “gaps” in his knowledge of history. However, along with nine other students, Seth had been selected to participate in a special program – one that involved ingesting the restricted substance, glitterstim, notorious for inducing telepathy, along with a number of less desirable side effects (by the age of 19, Seth had lost sight in his right eye)._  
>  _The glitterstim was “ground up” and mixed with their food. In a heart-wrenching statement, Seth confessed: “I didn’t realise how much I was taking until I left the academy. I wanted to stop, to save my credits for something more useful, or at least something less destructive. As an addict, a lot of things are more difficult – like getting a job, or maintaining a relationship. You want to stop taking glitterstim, but it’s such an addictive drug - you can’t simply stop overnight. It’s an ongoing process…even when you do finally get clean.”_

Bill moved his hand to scroll down through the article, but Brendol shook his head.

“You get the idea,” he said. “The most crucial piece of information, from our perspective, cannot be found in this article, but came from the mouths of our scouts.” He anticipated Bill’s _“get on with it”_ before it came. “They will be boarding the cruise yacht _Arcadia_ tomorrow evening. I believe you’ve heard of it?”

“My wife’s ship. The galaxy really is _too_ small. So, when do we leave?” Of course, _that_ was what caught his attention, when it should have been the concerns raised by that ridiculous sob story.

“As soon as you like. Your partner ought to be waiting outside by now.”

 

* * *

  

Lucy held onto DeeDee’s cool, metal hand as they navigated the _Finalizer’s_ corridors.

“We can go a little faster,” she said, realising that the painfully slow pace had been intended for her benefit. The droid’s strides became longer as they strolled past a cleaning droid with a boot-shaped dent in its plating. Lucy wasn’t sure why Bill had been called to an office on this floor, but she was glad DeeDee had been willing to share the information with her. DeeDee _trusted_ her, and she was happy to have someone to keep her company while Caleb worked – even if she hadn’t told him about her new friend yet.

DeeDee came to an abrupt halt outside one of the offices, beside a tall, pale woman with dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She wore neither stormtroopers’ armour, nor the uniform of the officers or technicians. Her clothing reminded Lucy of one of Bill’s old girlfriends – the one with the red and black speeder. A long, black, woolen jumper with tight-fitting leather trousers and spiky boots – also black. She felt like…

“Hey, kid,” the tall woman said, without turning to look at her. She would have heard DeeDee’s approach, though Lucy thought _she_ had been quiet. But…she felt like Kylo Ren when he’d extended his reach beyond his physical body, towards the General.

She felt like _her._

Not that Lucy knew how to do that. Occasionally she felt another’s thoughts as if they were her own, but she couldn’t hear or see hidden things, or slide ghostly fingers into Caleb’s hands when his nails dug into his palms.

“You waitin’ to say goodbye to your dad?” She felt her eyebrows raise. Was _that_ why DeeDee had brought her here? 

“He’s going somewhere?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t elaborate, just stood in silence for a while before snickering. “No, I most certainly am _not._ ” Lucy flushed, and looked to the ground. She’d been wondering whether the woman was one of Bill’s girlfriends, trying and failing not to imagine them together, holding hands and the…other things couples often did. She heard movement from within the office.

“I- I’d better go,” she said quickly. Her stomach didn’t feel good. She wanted to fool herself into believing it was because of the lunch she’d eaten in the canteen but, while the food _was_ bad, she wasn’t able to ignore the truth. DeeDee’s black, mirrored faceplate turned back towards her.

“You don’t wish to see your father before he leaves?” 

“I…don’t feel well. Where’s the nearest refresher?” DeeDee stopped to consider the ship’s layout.

“You want me to tell him you were here, kid?” 

“…No. And don’t call me kid. My name’s Lucy.” By the time she heard it, she was in the refresher with her head over a toilet bowl.

_Lilith._


	14. Neither up nor down

_Anything you can be I can be greater_  
_Sooner or later I'm greater than you_

 

“…Brendol Hux’s _five hundred bastard children,”_ Alice read out loud from her datapad, rolling her eyes. The rest of that latest article was similarly sensationalist in its tone – such _shoddy_ journalism.

“At least _this_ one didn’t misgender me,” Roslin said, sipping her cocktail. Naturally, her career as a diplomat meant that she always looked presentable. But tonight she looked even more elegant than usual. She had picked out a white gown for the occasion, embellished with shimmering gold beads, and her long red hair was held in place by an antique comb, given to her as a gift by the senator for Naboo. Alice’s turquoise dress – chosen to match her freshly dyed hair – felt plain in comparison. Not that it mattered much to her. She knew she looked _good._

“It’ll never cease to amaze me how you manage to put a positive spin on anything, Ros.”

“I often _have_ to,” she replied with a smile, “in my line of work.” Alice grinned back and winked.

“Perhaps journalists could learn a thing or two from diplomats.”

“Oh, we both know the holonews wouldn’t be _nearly_ as exciting if that happened.”

“Maybe a little boredom wouldn’t be so bad, if only now and again.” She tucked her purse under her arm to pick up the two drinks she’d ordered – apple juice and a very, very pink strawberry smoothie. Roslin may have been comfortable sitting at the bar, surrounded by the kind of fancy aristocrats one might expect on a luxury yacht, but Seth had seated himself as far away as was possible. 

Alice honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d found him playing a game on his handheld console or reading a novel on his datapad – though she had to admit it was impressive watching him read. He’d never been a _slow_ reader, but his state-of-the-art bionic eye seemed to allow him to process information much more quickly than most people. She suspected that was one of the reasons he’d saved his credits for such a high-end model. _Still kinda miss the eye patch sometimes._ It had made him look like one of the smugglers from the holodramas she’d enjoyed as a teenager.

As it turned out, he was waiting patiently…or so she first thought. 

“Seth, are you zooming in on that guy’s datapad?” She shook her head as she handed him the strawberry smoothie, before leaning in closer. “What’s he reading?”

“The novelization of _Passion Taboo_.” He smiled slightly, turning his red eye towards her.

“Hey, don’t zoom in on _me_!” 

“Don’t worry, your pores are still cute.” She had to laugh at that. It was just such a _Seth_ thing to say.

“Smooth as always,” she teased, settling her head on his shoulder. His stubble tickled as he kissed her forehead.

“Well, we’re not all wordsmiths.” Alice gave him a sly look.

“Maybe not. But you’re getting pretty good with your tongue.” She didn’t think she’d ever tire of seeing Seth getting flustered. His cheeks weren’t far off the deep crimson of his bionic eye. “Speaking of which, you have to check out my quarters. It’s seriously amazing. There’s a _four-poster bed._ It’s okay though, it’s sturdy. I checked.” He used his straw to pick up the bits of strawberry at the bottom of his glass.

“Roslin doesn’t need us here right now? In that case…I suppose you could show me around. We _are_ on a tour.”

“Exactly.” She gulped down the last of her apple juice. “Just because we’re here on business, doesn’t mean we can’t have _any_ fun.” He looked down at his shoes briefly, before offering a shy smile.

“Lead the way then.”

 

* * *

 

Mitaka gripped Caleb’s hair to keep himself from stumbling backwards and knocking over the stack of boxes containing thermal detonators for the troopers. He didn’t care if he looked desperate, rolling his hips and thrusting slowly into Caleb’s mouth. He’d barely seen him for a fortnight, since their shifts (and consequently their free time and sleep cycles) hadn’t coincided. He was too distracted to check his chrono but, at a _guess_ , they probably had around ten minutes during the changeover period before his shift _officially_ began.

“I spent most of yesterday’s shift thinking about bending you over my workstation,” he said quietly, shuddering as Caleb moaned – whether in response to the comment or to Mitaka’s boot settling between his thighs, he couldn’t tell. Probably both. 

“Mmm?” Since they’d begun… _fraternizing,_ for lack of a better term, he’d learned to distinguish between the sounds Caleb replied with when his lips and tongue – _stars, what_ is _that he’s doing with his tongue?_ – were otherwise occupied. This was a request for elaboration. 

“Of course…I’d order everyone else off the bridge first,” he told him, cupping his cheek. He could hear his words slurring, feel his heart racing. The sight of Caleb on his knees, eager to please as always, his own erection pressed firmly against Mitaka’s boot, was almost too much to bear. “Then I-I’d… _stars,_ Caleb _,_ you’re so _good_. I…where do you want me to, um…” It had been far too long since he’d had the pleasure of seeing Caleb’s face covered in his cum, but Mitaka could hardly say he was _disappointed_ when he tightened his hold on his hips, taking him deeper in his mouth. He covered his mouth when he came – a hangover from his days at the academy – in an attempt to suppress the string of profanities that escaped, instead, as a soft whimper.

“Delightful as your distraction was,” Caleb murmured, pausing to lick the tip of his cock clean. “I’m going to need more details about those fantasies of yours. For…future consideration.” Mitaka laughed as he offered a hand to help Caleb to his feet.

“You do know I don’t actually have the authority to order _everyone_ off the bridge, don’t you?” Even though Mitaka had straightened his posture, Caleb needed to stoop slightly to bring his lips to his ear.

“Mmm, not _yet_ at least,” he whispered, teasing Mitaka’s earlobe with his lips, and then his teeth. “But I need something interesting to think about in the shower tonight, and this certainly did sound _interesting_.”

“You have a much better imagination than I do.” Mitaka smiled, but the truth was that he was becoming frustrated with the arrangement, and he could tell that Caleb was, too. Their encounters in the storeroom could be fun, in their own way, but he missed the comfort of his quarters – the sheer enormity of the _Finalizer_ meant that it was impossible for either of them to get between the bridge and the officers’ accommodation with time to spare.

He missed the way Caleb curled around him after they’d made love. He missed holding hands under the table, eating their meals together, even _working_ together. He missed having the time to have a real _conversation._ They’d been exchanging e-mails over the last fortnight…but it was hardly the same.

“Fine, I’ll let you keep it to yourself for now. I’ve been wondering...” The touch of his lips against Mitaka’s cheek was light, but his words had a heaviness to them. “If it’s not appropriate for you to request that your shifts be switched back, what about if _I_ ask?”

“Maybe. Do you think your- _General Hux_ would be more willing to listen to you?”

“ _Hell,_ no. Well…not unless he thinks it benefits _him_ in some way.”

“And how would you convince him it did?” A wicked grin spread across his face.

“Like you said…I have a good imagination.”

 

* * *

  

Ren removed his mask, setting it down on the table between himself and Zach.

“You look much better,” he said. “Less tired.”

“I _am_. I’ve actually been able to sleep for the last couple of weeks,” Zach replied, twirling the little umbrella that had come with his drink. “And I appreciate you solving the problem. I know it must have seemed silly – and I have no issues with Lieutenant Mitaka himself, _or_ what he gets up to in his personal life – but the walls are paper-thin and…it was just so… _loud._ ”

“It’s…a valid complaint.” Ren was glad of the reinforced walls in his own quarters, as well as in Hux’s. “But I was a little surprised. He usually seems so…mild-mannered.” _Meek, pitiful, timid, spineless_ and _pathetic_ had been some of the first words to come to mind, but Hux had requested he at least tried being more diplomatic when dealing with the crew. And since he’d been ready and willing to learn about the less familiar aspects of Ren’s life and his training, the suggestion had seemed reasonable. Solving Zach’s problem had even been simple enough – all he’d had to do was swap two of the lieutenants’ shifts around.

“Oh, no…it wasn’t him. It was his boyfriend. A technician, apparently, but I don’t think we’ve met.” Ren wasn’t usually inclined towards gossip, but he couldn’t help being a little curious. It seemed unlikely that it would be any of the technicians he’d worked with during his infamous masquerade as ‘Matt’. There was no reason it should be anyone he knew personally – they’d hired a number of specialist technicians since then.

“I think Thanisson might know who it is,” Zach said. He wasn’t Force-sensitive, but Ren found that he _was_ rather perceptive. It was one of the reasons Hux had agreed to his suggestion to promote Zach, even though the two of them hadn’t been on particularly good terms at the time. “Though he _does_ like to spread some slightly more…ridiculous rumours. You wouldn’t believe what goes on in the storeroom near the bridge – allegedly.” _Interesting._

“I shall have to enquire.” He _could_ mind probe him, claim that it was standard procedure. But while Hux encouraged him to be more tactful, Leader Snoke pushed him to rely _less_ on his Force-sensitivity to relate to others. To hone his perceptive skills, supposedly. _“Humans are dull-witted,”_ he’d told him. His master hadn’t said this to be unkind. It was simply true. Compared to some of the other species in the galaxy, humans were sluggish, both in their thought and in their reflexes. The Force was only as strong as its vessel.

What humans _were_ good at was manipulation – of materials, of people, of information, of _history_. The New Republic’s government had been the best of all at that game. Now, in its place, was the Resistance, led by no other than his own mother. _The most skilled politician, the most practiced liar of them all._ But not for much longer. Anything she could do, so could he.

_And I will do it better._


	15. Scythes so sharp

_“For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.”_

\- Suzanne Collins, _The Hunger Games_

Technically, they were speaking of treason. But High Command so very rarely troubled themselves with technicalities. Colonel Lorne adjusted his hat as he awaited a reply, unsettling a few strands of his dark hair, only just beginning to grey at the temples.

“I beg your pardon, Sir,” Mitaka said, “but I’m not sure I understand why you wish to include _me_ in your plans.” Of course, he knew exactly why. But in his experience, it never hurt to feign ignorance in these situations. Admiral Windrider opened his mouth, and closed it again when Lorne continued speaking. 

“Lieutenant,” he smiled, reminding Mitaka of the creature Dr. Valorum had brought with him upon the _Finalizer,_ “the First Order’s losses after the attack on Starkiller Base were…considerable. A terrible business, of course, but – for some of us – an opportunity. Why, General Hux himself provides a fine example of how one can ascend to greatness in such a short time, and given that we lost a large number of high-ranking officers that day…perhaps some of those who yet survive are due a _promotion_.”

“Many of us believe that General Hux has become…distracted of late,” Vice-Admiral Maxson sniffed, uncrossing her legs as she leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “His recent attachment to Lord Ren is most _vexing_.” 

“We must be able to speak and _think_ freely,” Windrider added. “No one can do that with the Supreme Leader’s _pet_  lurking in the General’s shadow whenever we hold meetings-” Lorne simply held up his hand, and the admiral was silenced.

“As you can see, my friend feels _quite_ passionately about this. But there are other issues at stake – this whole affair with Seth Glass, for instance.”

“Yes, I…” Mitaka hesitated only for a moment, but it was long enough. _He thinks me timid, weak-willed, malleable. Good._ “I have seen the holonews, Sir.”

“I was the commandant at the academy he trained at – one of the very first to be based on a Star Destroyer –” Lorne’s chest swelled with pride at the memory. “A brilliant student in almost every respect. But he was soft-hearted and easily swayed by his feelings, his… _attachments._ ” Mitaka nodded slowly, seeing where this was leading. “It pains me to say it, but I cannot help but wonder if the good General might be prone to similar conflicts of emotion. After all, there's nothing more powerful than  _genetics_ _._ ”

Intelligence, education, training, and a superweapon with the ability to wipe out an entire star system were a few of the things Mitaka could think of that certainly _were_ more powerful than genetics, but he was quite sure Lorne was uninterested in his opinion…if he even believed he was capable of forming one.

“I understand you’re _friendly_ with the general’s brother,” Lorne continued. The man clearly loved the sound of his own voice. “I don’t mean to _pry,_ but a word of warning, if I may-”

“Not to worry, Sir,” Mitaka interrupted, making a show of looking down and shuffling his feet. “Just a bit of fun.”

“Very well, Lieutenant,” Lorne smirked. “Far be it from me to deny the crew a little… _fun_.” Windrider snickered until Maxson rolled her eyes at him. But Mitaka’s focus remained on Lorne until he was dismissed. Thankfully he didn’t encounter General Hux, who was likely on his way to meet with the rest of High Command – the afternoon had already been taxing enough.

He took a leisurely stroll towards Caleb’s quarters after rolling up a sleeve to check his chrono, realising that he should be finishing his shift shortly. The meeting with High Command had gone on longer than expected, and he was glad to at least have been given the night off so that he might attend. He ought to sleep, but he knew that if he tried he would spend the night frowning at his ceiling and grinding his teeth.

_Bloody Lorne._

* * *

 

When she first walked into the medbay, Captain Phasma was greeted by the furry, orange creature, who seemed to be rubbing herself against her leg armor.

“I- um- hello,” came a muffled voice. The doctor seemed to be in the middle of taking off his sweater to reveal…another sweater. “Oh! Captain…how can I assist you?” His cheeks were flushed, and it really was no wonder if he wandered about the _Finalizer_ wearing more than one sweater. She was warm enough as it was, with only lightweight clothing under her armor.

“At ease, doctor. I’m merely here for my check-up,” she nodded towards one of the medical droids. Dr. Valorum nodded back and draped the discarded sweater over the back of his chair for the time being.

“Your leg injury? Yes, I could take a look at that for you, I mean- That is, if you wouldn’t prefer being examined by Dr. Tooare.” Phasma sighed, glad that her helmet didn’t emphasise the sound as Ren’s did.

“A once-over from one of the droids will suffice,” she said sternly, eager to get back to work. Clinics and medbays always had made her uneasy.

“Well, actually,” he glanced up apologetically, not quite meeting her gaze. “An injury like this ought to have fully healed by now. The medical droids here are very sophisticated but…there is always room for error.”

“Is that not also the case for human beings, _Doctor_?”

“I suppose. But, as your _doctor_ , I’m responsible for your care. If I wasn’t thorough, I wouldn’t be fulfilling the oath I took.” _Interesting._ Although she had met Dr. Tooare on only two occasions and had no idea if she’d taken such an oath, Phasma doubted she shared his sentiments. When she first encountered Dr. Valorum she’d been skeptical, but she had to admit that she found the seriousness with which he treated his profession refreshing, and she was not about to encourage the man to break a solemn oath.

“Very well, Doctor,” she said, removing the chrome plating that covered the injury in question.

“Tim,” he mumbled, offering her a seat. The ginger creature sat beside her and made a noise like an engine. Even as a girl, she'd found that sound soothing.

* * *

 

Lilith lay back on the bed, spreading her limbs across the silken sheets, unlike anything she’d ever slept on before. When she cleared her mind she was aware of others who had slept here. A young businesswoman, an older married couple on their honeymoon…and when she really focused, she saw the silkworms spinning delicate threads, gorging themselves on leaves-

“Only one bed?” Bill grinned. “Some might think that was rather…presumptuous of you.” Lilith snorted loudly. He knew _full well_ that this had been the only room still available.

“I’m _not_ gonna have sex with you. You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight. Maybe I’ll let you have the bed tomorrow. Anyway, it’s early yet…we should check out the bar. _Someone_ told me it’s _really_ somethin’.” 

“I wasn’t lying, sweetheart. You won’t be able to drink the garbage they serve on the _Finalizer_ after you’ve tried Mae’s cocktails.”

“You underestimate me,” she smirked. “I’ve endured _far_ worse than that. So, he’s your clone – if you were Seth Glass, where’d you be?” _That ought to push his buttons._

“I’ve no more idea than you do. In fact, probably _less_ since I can’t look inside people’s heads.” 

“It’s not as simple as that. You never talked to the kid about how this works, have you?” Lilith sighed. “It’s not like you go rootin’ around in someone’s mind without them being aware. More like…people project a lot of stuff. Usually a lot of really _dull_ stuff like ‘I’m really tired’ or ‘I’m a bit peckish’. You can’t be just pickin’ and choosin’ whatever thoughts or memories you feel like lookin’ in on, that’s not how it is.” She thought back to the stories she’d heard about Kylo Ren’s interrogation of the Resistance pilot, before Starkiller Base had been reborn as a star, still embedded with the memories of snow and ice and _blood_. “You’d _know_ if I was lookin’.”

“Right,” he said stiffly, reaching for his boots. “So, how about that drink?”

“Sure, _sweetheart._ ”


	16. My heart is open

>   _“To lose a brother is to lose someone with whom you can share the experience of growing old, who is supposed to bring you a sister-in-law and nieces and nephews, creatures who people the tree of your life and give it new branches. To lose your father is to lose the one whose guidance and help you seek, who supports you like a tree trunk supports its branches. To lose your mother, well, that is like losing the sun above you. It is like losing--I'm sorry, I would rather not go on.”_
> 
>   
>  ― Yann Martel,  _Life of Pi_

“A long time ago there were five hundred brothers. Nobody knew who their mother was but she must have been beautiful because the brothers were all very handsome, even though their father was a pig in a suit. They all had red hair and green eyes, except for one who was wicked and had pale blue eyes. His escort was called the Prince of Darkness-” Caleb erupted into something between laughter and coughing. 

“Tim, _please._ I can’t go through this again. I already laughed so hard I started coughing. And then coughed so much I puked. It’s _too_ kriffing-” He made another undignified sound, covering his mouth. “’Escort’. _‘_ Pig in a suit’. Bloody _hell_ , and I’m supposed to be having _dinner_ with them tonight _-_ ”

“You _puked?_ Are you okay?” Tim’s frown was short-lived, both of them glancing back at the tall tale on the datapad. 

“Yeah,” he sniggered. “It was worth it. Lucy wasn’t there when I read it, thank _fuck,_ but she asked me about it later.”

“What did you say?” 

“Oh, I told her I like it _very_ much.”

“And you say she was writing this for a friend?” Tim bit his lip to suppress another giggle as he skimmed through the story.

“Apparently so. I said she could invite them for a cup of tea…or juice, if they don’t like tea. Said she doesn’t eat _or_ drink. _Very_ curious _._ Well, I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow.” He glanced at the stationary medical droid, then winced at the memory of it driving a needle into his forearm for his last blood test. “Anyway, I’d better get going and psyche myself up for this family… _thing._ ”

“I’d say I was upset at not being invited but…”

“Oh, _hell_ no, it’s going to be dreadful. Wish me luck, and give that back,” he indicated the datapad, “I don’t want it filled with rathtar porn again.” Tim sighed loudly.

“Good luck…and that was _one_ time!”

“One time too many, little brother,” he laughed, “I’ll catch you later.” Tim smiled, despite himself.

“Later. Oh – and let me know if you see Millie!” 

 

* * *

 

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose, as if that would somehow ward off his headache. More than once he’d anticipated an intrusion of his mind, but for the past week Ren had proved elusive – and never more so than during the few moments they spent together. His continued refusal to speak of Leader Snoke’s training was all very well, but the increase in meeting hours with his master was proving difficult. Not for him, _no,_ but for Hux _. He’d become involved in my daily routines,_ Hux reminded himself – and it was perfectly natural that disruptions to one’s routine may have negative consequences. It ought to be _funny,_ really, the fact that he considered Ren’s _absence_ to be disruptive.

In any case, he had little appetite as he readied himself for dinner with his father and…well, just who _was_ Caleb to him, anyway? _Someone with whom I have nothing in common, save for genetics._ Caleb hadn’t even been raised by the First Order, and the New Republic rhetoric that peppered his conversations with the officers and other technicians served as a constant reminder. Hux made a mental note to have Lieutenant Mitaka keep an eye on that. On the other hand, productivity _had_ increased significantly since the days of his predecessor.

His thoughts were interrupted by a strange little noise in the corridor, not dissimilar to the humming of a speeder engine, if the ones in the few holofilms he’d seen could be considered accurate depictions. _Probably another mouse droid malfunctioning._ When Hux opened the door it became abundantly clear that the droid maintenance team had been _terribly_ inefficient in their investigation into the cause of the problem.

“What do _you_ want?” He glared at the mass of striped ginger fur at his feet. Millicent mewed, looking up at him with eyes like saucers as she pressed her nose against his boot. “No, you’re not coming in here. _Shoo_.”

Half an hour later, she was curled up on his lap as he continued in dismantling the mouse droid. While Hux had very little formal training in droid maintenance, he’d managed to teach himself how to make basic repairs or upgrades by looking at cross-sections and then carefully taking them apart. Droids were just _things._ And the MSE-series droids weren’t even particularly sophisticated things. Each was identical, built with multiple capabilities, but programmed only for a single task. _Things_ were nothing to be afraid of.

Things did not have feelings.

Millicent purred as she padded gently against his stomach, paws moving at a slow, steady rhythm. It should have been irritating, but somehow it wasn’t, even as he brushed stray ginger hairs from his uniform. He glanced down at his hand, tracing the scar from the day he’d unleashed his rage on the console in his office on Starkiller Base, after ‘Matt’… He took a deep breath and scratched between Millicent’s ears before pulling his gloves back on.

 

* * *

 

“Well, I have a nice house. Alright, it’s a _very_ nice house. It’s not sheltered under a dome, so it wasn’t _too_ expensive, but it wasn’t cheap either. The trouble is, not everyone’s lucky enough to have a reliable income, so some people end up living in the flood zones. There’re flood barriers, of course, but they require _maintenance_. And the domes – the domes mean there’s less places for the water to go – and _let me tell you_ , they are very well maintained. Anyway, to cut a long story short – barriers failed, and what did Carise Sindian do? _Nothing,_ that’s what.

“She visited the Academy once, you know, when I was in my third year. Wore a _ball gown._ We were all stood on the cliffs in our anoraks and she’s there wearing a _bloody_ ball gown, and _that_ is all you need to know about _Lady_ Carise Sindian.” Caleb cleared his throat with what he hoped was some measure of discretion.

Brendol chuckled, before continuing to assault his steak with his cutlery. Hux remained silent. “That’s all very well, but I was especially interested in her relationship with _General_ Organa – and the other senators, naturally.”

Caleb prodded his own food with uncertainty. “I didn’t really follow galactic politics _that_ closely at the time, so I doubt I can tell you anything you don’t already know.” Brendol nodded as he shovelled food into his mouth, not seeming to notice when a glob of gravy caught in that patchy faded red and grey beard of his.

“No doubt you had other things on your plate.” He turned his gaze from one twin to the other. “You’ve barely touched your food.” Hux’s posture, if possible, stiffened further.

“My apologies, Sir. I’m not particularly hungry.”

“Yeah, and I, um, had a big lunch.” Hux’s eyes narrowed at the addition, but he made no comment. Caleb had no doubt that, under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed a meal like this. But the richness of the meat and the way the gravy clung to his throat, along with his brother’s sharp looks and his father’s abysmal table manners were an ill combination. _A pig in a suit, indeed._

This was not the family he’d imagined.

Once upon a time, Aoife had fallen in love with a stocky man with red and grey hair. He didn’t remember if his mother had ever called her husband handsome, but he was amusing, charming, and clever. And then she’d fallen in love with the beautiful, shy, blue-eyed boy that looked like Caleb. He’d had thought he sounded like a good husband and father, even if he didn’t manage to come and see him. He had people who looked after him at the GeneLab. He had his _mother._  

“It’s… _interesting,_ ” Caleb began, pushing a slice of meat to the side of his plate. “Your stormtrooper program. They all look kind of the same in their armor. Even the way they move is _so_ similar, _so_ regimented. So anonymous that they don’t even have real names. But if you look closely – I mean _really_ closely – you’ll notice little things. TM-1689 has a slight spring to his step, so _slight_ that it’s easy to miss. Others,” he turned to look at Hux, “walk around like they’ve got a stick up their arse.” Brendol spoke as Hux opened his mouth.

“Your implication isn’t entirely incorrect,” he smiled. “That is, after all, why you exist. But while the troopers’ physical appearances differ they are _all_ , ultimately, an extension of the First Order’s will.”

“Not _all,_ I heard. Seems like upbringing is no more a guarantee of anything than _genetics._ ”

“You speak of _one_ anomaly,” Hux spat, hands shaking as his cutlery clattered against his plate. “One anomaly does _not_ undermine years of evidence to the contrary.”

“You’ve _really_ done a number on him, haven’t you, _Father_?” He turned back to Hux. “ _Armitage._ I don’t care what you _said –_ you _are_ my brother. You might not realise that now, but you will. Hell, I had no idea where to start, but I was looking for you for _thirty_ years, so I’m not giving up now. You are my brother and _I love you_ and I will _find_ you. Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.” He stood up, cringing at the too-loud scrape of fingernails against leather, but Hux gripped his hand roughly – only for a second. 

“Get _out_.”


	17. Fly away home

   _“Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more.”_  
― Robin Hobb,  _Fool's Fate_

 

* * *

  

Ren sat up in bed, his back pressed against the cool, reinforced steel wall. He was too tired to flow-walk. He’d thought to meditate in the calm darkness of the quarters but the atmosphere dripped with Hux’s irritation. His anger brought to mind a swarm of Geonosians – the short, clipped sounds of their language, the hum of their wings as the hive moved as one. There was an order to it, but an outsider was unlikely to perceive that order.

 _Ren_ was an outsider.

Hux shifted beside him, draping an arm over Millicent. Ren had discovered the fluffy, orange creature in Hux’s quarters a few days ago, and now it seemed she refused to leave his side. Her intelligent green eyes briefly flickered towards him, as if sensing her presence in his thoughts. Exasperated, Ren prodded Hux with his elbow.

“At least put more effort into it if you’re going to pretend to be asleep.”

“I _was_ sleeping,” Hux snapped, quickly retracting his arm. “Before _you_ woke me with all your tossing and turning.”

“No.” Ren knew he would have to tread carefully. “You have something on your mind.” 

“Of _course_ you’ve been mind-reading. I don’t know why I’d expect-”

“I haven’t,” he said firmly, making sure to meet Hux’s gaze. “Even if I couldn’t… _feel_ it, your body language is hardly subtle.” He knew that Hux was being deliberately obtuse – he was well aware that it was impossible for even the most skilled knight to remain undetected during a mind-probe, whether their target was force-sensitive or not.

He shut his eyes and tried to focus on Millicent’s presence as he waited, either for a reply or for Hux to drift off to sleep. Ren had encountered many animals as a child, and more still as a young man, but this one must have been a rare creature. Her fur was soft, but her mind was sharp. She delighted in giving and receiving affection, yet also in the thrill of the hunt…and of the _kill_. Curious _,_ since she did not need to hunt – her food was provided for her, in delicious, bite-sized chunks. Ren decided he liked this animal after all.

Hux did not reply, nor did he sleep.

 

* * *

 

Lucy woke when Caleb started coughing. She rolled out of bed, shivering as she shed her blanket and her bare feet touched the floor. The room was cold and dark, just like the rest of the ship, and she almost swore when she stubbed her toe. Instead, she merely bit her lip while her fingers swept over the desk in search of Caleb’s inhaler. When she found it, she slipped back into the warmth of the bed to hand it to him.

“Thanks, sunshine,” he said between puffs. She’d always thought the inhaler made a weird sound when he used it. “Sorry I woke you again.”

“It’s okay. I’m not really tired.” She stifled a yawn. It wasn’t his fault his breathing was worse on a morning.

“Sure you’re not,” he muttered, mussing her hair. “Well, you can always take a nap before your friend DeeDee visits.” She groaned.

“I don’t take _naps._ I’m _eight_.”

 “So?” Caleb chuckled softly, carefully untangling her curls with his fingers. “Naps aren’t _just_ for kids.”

“Maybe I’ll just drink _loads_ of caf instead. Seems to work for you.” 

“ _Eight_ is a little young for caf, sunshine. Besides, don’t think I haven’t seen the faces you’ve pulled when you’ve tried it.” Now it was her turn to laugh as she remembered sipping her mam’s caf, rich and bitter, so _bitter,_ trying hard not to spit it out. Mam had winked at Caleb and Narue, and then flashed her that _told-you-so_ smile. Lucy had been annoyed at the time – she’d only been six – but now the memory made her smile.

It also made her miss her mam.

“Can we comm Mam later?” she asked.

“Sure. I miss her too. We can tell her all about my dinner with the pig in a suit.” At that, Lucy lost it, descending into a fit of giggles. “Actually, we probably shouldn’t really say that in case we’re being monitored, but…” Lucy knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking the same thing.

_Fuck it._

 

* * *

 

Bill had not expected to run into his wife quite _so_ soon. Naturally, Lilith had found the whole affair hilarious when they’d turned up to see her sitting at the bar, wearing an elegant black dress and a pair of red heels with straps that wound around her calves. She was everything he remembered, and more.

“What’s a fine lady like you doing drinking on her own in a place like this?” 

“Oh, _William._ The galaxy really is _too_ small. And you brought a _friend_? How lovely.” She turned to Lilith with a grin. “Hmm, this doesn’t bode well at all – this one looks like she has more than a couple of brain cells to rub together. Won’t take her long to realize she can do better.”

“Maybe I already have,” Lilith replied, casting an appreciative glance in Rosy’s direction. _You didn’t tell me what a lovely wife you had, Kera._ Rosy sipped her drink, a look of amusement playing across her features.

“Yes, well, we’re here on _business,_ actually,” he snapped, glaring at Lilith. She didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in the new, unfamiliar surroundings. He didn’t know where she’d come from before she was serving on the _Finalizer,_ but he doubted it was filled with flashy neon lights and jovial laughter.

“And you’re conducting that business at the bar?” 

“Yes.” Rosy shrugged, fidgeting with the straw in her glass. He recalled Lucy doing the same thing with her juice in the cantina.

“None of _my_ business,” she said. “Just so long as you don’t cause any trouble on _my_ ship.” 

“Wouldn’t _dream_ of it, sweetheart.” Rosy rolled her eyes as she finished her drink. When she excused herself, he considered inviting himself to her quarters later – that is, before he was distracted by the _other_ red-haired woman approaching the bar.

 

* * *

 

The observation deck was empty when Brendol arrived. He was tired and wheezing after the walk from his personal quarters, but he needed to see it. It seemed an age since Starkiller Base, since they’d first left the Unknown Regions to reclaim what was rightfully theirs, but now the _Finalizer_ loomed over the familiar, rainy planet. 

Arkanis.

_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter! Hiatus wasn't supposed to last quite that long but, as is often the case, real life happened. In any case, I hope it was worth the wait :3


	18. Between the salt water and the sea sand

>  “The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too”   
>  ― Vincent Van Gogh

 

* * *

 

_Caleb’s nose turned up at the smell, even after spending a year and a half at the academy, but he still brought cubes of salt for the nerfs that lived near the beach. One of them nuzzled his hand with its wet nose, and he ruffled the coarse, curly, brown fur between its horns. The herd had been there for longer than any of the instructors at the academy – since before the fall of the Empire, even, when Arkanis Academy trained officers and soldiers, rather than engineers or cyberneticists._

_“Oi, Noodle, you’d better be planning on taking a shower later,” his roommate called from the other side of the fence. Jerome might not have minded keeping him company on his way down to the beach now and then, but he really didn’t care for the nerfs’ odor getting into his clothes._

_“Sure,_ dad, _” he shouted back, glancing towards Jerome to see the corner of his lips twitching upwards as he made a rude gesture. He was lucky to have ended up sharing a room with Jerome for another year. He scratched the nerf behind the ears before walking back towards the gate. He didn’t have any more salt cubes, yet the nerf still followed close behind. “But you’re right, I think Curly here’s a little more…pungent than usual.” The rain had been particularly heavy during the week, and the nerf’s fur was still matted and damp, caked with wet sand and R’iia knows what else._

 _“You’re not kidding. Surprised you slept right through that storm last night, I must’ve woken up three or four times.” Jerome pointed up towards the dark clouds over the ocean as Caleb secured the gate. “Speaking of which…better get your brolly ready. And tell your_ friend _here he can’t come with us.”_

_“Aww, Curly. I’m sorry, but you really do have to stay here.” The nerf sniffed as if in protest, resting its chin on the fence to watch Caleb rummage around in his backpack. “We love you but you’re too big to stay indoors and you smell like shit.”_

_“Wow, you’re nicer to that nerf than you are to me.” Caleb tutted._

_“To think I_ was _going to share my umbrella with you,” he smiled slyly. “Ah well, I guess I’ll just see you back at the academy.” He began to walk away and then, just as the heavens opened, he broke into a run._

 _“You…_ nerf-herder _!” Jerome laughed before breaking into a sprint himself, holding his backpack over his head until Caleb finally slowed down for him._

 

* * *

  

It was Caleb’s third time seeing Arkanis from orbit.

The first time, he’d been four years old, and so enthralled by the interior of the small starship that he’d barely thought to look outside – at least, until he’d begun to wonder what it was out there that made Mara look so sad. Now, he understood all too well how painful it was to see the place you called home grow smaller and smaller, until it was no longer visible to the naked eye. Mara had lived on Arkanis all her life, before she’d left to take care of him…and it had all been for nothing. During the chaos and confusion of the battle on Jakku, they’d been separated, and he never did find out where she was, or what happened to her. Never quite forgetting her tears – the ones that didn’t quite fall – he made a point never to look outside unless he was returning home. 

And so the second time, when he was fourteen and leaving the godforsaken rock that was Jakku, he snuck out of the cargo hold to peek out of a small window before the freighter landed. It was even bluer than he’d remembered, the large domes protruding from the planet’s surface like bubbles. The GeneLab had been sheltered by one of those domes – not that he had any idea _which_ one he’d been housed in or it it was still even there…

…And now. _Now_ the planet looked grey. Wispy cirrus clouds obscured the seas and oceans, and clung to the tops of the domes. Beside him, Brendol leaned on his cane – something Tim had insisted upon.

“I had hoped your brother might join us.” Caleb caught himself just before he rolled his eyes.

“Which one?” 

“You know very well _which one_ ,” Brendol sighed. He looked tired, very tired, and so _old,_ which Caleb supposed was fair. He _was_ old, after all. But that was no excuse for the crumbs in his beard. “I had thought Armitage might care to look upon the planet that was his home – that will _be_ his home once again, as Emperor.” 

Brendol was difficult to read sometimes. Caleb had found that with a lot of ex-Imperials and First Order personnel, and wondered how much of it was down to the brutal methods of the loyalty officers and the fear of reconditioning. Of all things, he couldn’t really fault anyone for _that_.

“Why…” Caleb’s throat felt dry. “Why Arkanis?” Brendol’s thin lips stretched into a smile.

“It’s our home. Our _birthright._ ” All these ideas about _modern warfare_ and _super soldiers_ , and the old man was still firmly rooted in the past, clinging to some antiquated notion of noble blood or the like. In fact, it reminded him an awful lot of- _Of kriffing course._

“Carise Sindian. So you _did_ have a reason for asking me about her.”

 “Every question, every _word,_ has a reason, son.” He flinched at the word, yet he caught Brendol’s arm as his grip on the cane faltered.

  

* * *

 

_“Quit it, that tickles,” Caleb laughed, batting Narue’s hand away from his armpit._

_“What’s this here for?”_

_“The hair? I’m not sure. Humans just have armpit hair, it’s a thing – unless you shave.” He adjusted his pillow before rolling onto his side to face Narue. “Of_ all _the things to be so fascinated by…” He smiled as Caleb’s fingers carefully brushed over his horns._

_“It feels nice. Different from the hair on your head. Coarse, but soft.” His hand trailed across Caleb’s chest, his stomach, and then lower. “Softer than this.”_

_“You don’t like it?”_

_“I didn’t say that.”_

_“Maybe you should take a closer look again – just to make sure.”_

_“I don’t think I need –_ oh. _” Caleb grinned as a deep blue blush crept across Narue’s cheeks, and leaned forward to kiss him._

 _“You’re_ cute _when you’re flustered, Rue.” Narue turned away, feigning disgust._

 _“Your face is_ scratchy _.”_

 

* * *

  

The Koth Cybernetics and Engineering building was located on one of Arkanis’ industrial estates, unshielded by the hotchpotch of domes that covered much of the planet’s surface – the larger ones built with glass, like massive greenhouses, with some of the smaller ones formed by powerful shield generators. The rain had never really bothered Narue Koth. He’d grown up on Iridonian soil, harsh and unforgiving. As a boy, he’d explored the crumbling labyrinth known as Banol’s Maze, and sneaked past the swoop bike gangs that plagued the tunnels. No, a little rain didn’t bother him.

What bothered him was the Star Destroyer.

It had appeared in orbit an hour or so earlier. Whether it had made a jump from hyperspace or had previously remained undetected due to some kind of cloaking device was unknown. Narue didn’t know a great deal about starships – and especially not _military_ ships. Caleb would probably have had more insight, if he’d still been on Arkanis, even if he _did_ hate flying. The memory seemed to tug at the corners of Narue’s lips, but the Star Destroyer still loomed in his thoughts. 

It wasn’t unexpected – not _really_ , not after the tragedy of the Hosnian System. The Resistance had survived, though not unscathed, but the government had been left in tatters. General Organa remained as a glimmer of hope, but in its present state, the galaxy made Banol’s Maze look stable, and Narue didn’t much care for unpredictability. 

“RUE-RUE, I HAVE BROUGHT THE MATERIALS YOU REQUIRE.” He rolled his eyes at the nickname – something the former B1 Battle Droid had picked up from Caleb's niece. Bee – named for the bright yellow and black striped paintjob that Lucy had helped pick out – set the spare parts down on the workbench beside him.

“Thank you, Bee.” The droid peered out of the window, focused on the ship. He’d wiped Bee’s memory as best he could during the reprogramming, but wondered if the droid found the Star Destroyer familiar – for all he knew, Bee could have served on a similar battlecruiser during the Clone Wars.   

“I AM SCARED.” Narue sighed, resting his hand on the droid’s nose.

“You're not alone.”


	19. When the cold wind blows

>   _“My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.”_
> 
> ― L.M. Montgomery,  _Anne of Green Gables_

Roslin tilted her head at the bearded clone’s question. He hadn’t introduced himself, but if she recalled correctly, his name was William and he was a former Republic soldier turned mercenary. Being a diplomat could have its perks. With a promise here, and a favour there, Roslin had collected far more data on the “Hux” clones – she _despised_ that term, popularized by some of the more mainstream holonet newscasters – than she would otherwise have been able to obtain.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” She leaned on the bar, picking at a bowl of mixed green and black olives with a small, sharp stick.

“You’re sure there’s nothing that’ll convince you to change your mind?”

“Quite sure. It’s uncanny, you see – the resemblance between yourself and my brother.” This one wasn’t the _brightest_ lightsaber in the galaxy, but sure enough the lopsided grin began to falter…seemingly to reappear on the face of the pretty, dark-haired woman he’d entered with, whose name Roslin did not know – yet. She popped one of the olives between her lips, savouring the saltiness. “Regardless…thank you for the drink, _William_.”

“Clearly you’ve had me at a disadvantage.” The way his jaw clenched was an uncomfortable reminder of Seth’s initial stages of glitterstim withdrawal, but she pushed those memories aside for the time being.

“But you know who I am now,” she said, examining one of the moonstone beads on her sleeve as it shimmered beneath the too-bright lights. “So, shall we start over?”

“Given the nature of our…relationship, I suppose that would be appropriate.” Roslin smiled, spearing the second olive – the green one – with her cocktail stick, before gesturing politely towards his companion.

“Are you going to introduce us?”

“I’m Lilith,” she said quickly, not giving Bill the chance to answer. Though she was not a good deal shorter than Roslin, she straightened her back, and held her head a little higher. “Lilith, Knight of Ren _._ ”

_Such a grand title, for a glorified assassin._

Lilith frowned, and Roslin wondered whether it was possible that she’d been able to glimpse into her mind at that moment, as Seth had been able to in the past – not with the Force, but with the aid of glitterstim. In any case, it bothered her little. Her position within the New Repub- _the Resistance_ left little room for secrecy regarding her personal affairs. Absolute transparency was demanded to avoid the corruption that had plagued the former Republic government. Unsurprisingly, it had not been a principle _every_ diplomat serving the New Republic had followed with great diligence, but Roslin always had been an idealist.

Besides, she didn’t _need_ to play nice with the First Order.

“Lilith. I have heard of your…master. What brings the two of you here _together_?”

“My guess is you already know,” Bill said. Perhaps he _was_ brighter than he first seemed after all.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me about Cardinal.” Brendol looked up from beneath his wispy, unkempt brows.

“That’s a name I haven’t heard in some time.” Caleb was fidgeting with a lighter - something Brendol had noticed on a couple of occasions, even though he’d never seen him smoke. “I’m actually rather surprised you know it.” 

“I have my methods. Nothing sinister, I assure you. I’m just curious - the stormtroopers spoke very highly of him. _Fondly,_ even.” Caleb paused, put the lighter away. “They said he was your bodyguard. What happened to him?” Brendol sighed. Perhaps he was, as Armitage clearly delighted in reminding him in various ways, too old for this.

“It’s not an easy story to tell.”

“Is it ever? Don’t worry, I’ll accept an abridged version.” 

“It’s not simply that it’s a long or complicated story,” Brendol laughed. Somehow he already knew that Caleb was acutely aware of the tired bitterness resting beneath this jovial expression, and that was almost as bad as him knowing. It had taken Brendol this long to admit to _himself_ that _something_ in him had broken the year after he escaped Parnassus, after yet another narrow escape.

Something that Aoife had called his heart.

He looked into his son’s green eyes, just like _hers_ , and cursed himself for his sentimentality.

“Captain Cardinal is most likely dead,” he began, concealing his trembling hands beneath his desk. “He learned, after the fact, of a...plot. A power struggle, I suppose - hardly an uncommon thing.” For a moment, Caleb looked as if he might object, but in the end he said nothing.

“But, Cardinal, you see…” He smiled sadly, thinking of the time he’d offered the man a drink - a single drink - and he’d politely refused. “Cardinal was very by-the-books. Breaking curfew would have been unthinkable to him, let alone plotting to take another down to further his own career.”

“Sounds like an idealist,” Caleb said.

“He was the model stormtrooper.”

“Not Captain Phasma?” Something in Caleb’s tone was a little too knowing for Brendol’s liking.

“If you know the story, there is no need for me to repeat it.”

“I’m sorry. I know it must be...hard for you.” Brendol suppressed his urge to roll his eyes, only because he suspected the sympathy was, at least in part, genuine. For all the years he’d spent in the unforgiving deserts of Jakku, the boy was kind-hearted in the way his mother had been. Aoife had never been _weak_ , but she was not a cruel woman either.

“For what it’s worth,” Caleb said, standing and tucking his chair neatly beneath the desk, “the story does have a happy ending.”


End file.
